


Outlander / Sound of Music AU

by AnOutlandishFanfic



Series: Sound of Music [1]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon, The Sound of Music - Rodgers/Hammerstein/Lindsay & Crouse
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-03-06 15:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOutlandishFanfic/pseuds/AnOutlandishFanfic
Summary: The plot of Sound of Music with Claire as Maria and Jamie as the Captain von Trapp... and a few more outlandish changes woven in.





	1. Captain Fraser

The car pulled to a stop in the lavish driveway of the Fraser’s ancestral home. I pressed my nose against the cold glass, trying to get a better look at the towering manor house.

“An’ here ye be Miss, Lallybroch at last,” commented the driver as he opened my door.

I nodded to him in thanks as he unloaded my small suitcase and guitar from the spacious trunk. Instead of setting them down and returning to the car, he started to head towards the gigantic front door.

“Oh!” I said in surprise, “I can take my bags, if you like.”

The driver gave me a look of amusement over his shoulder, but continued walking. I reached his side just in time for him to knock on the door.

The heavy, wooden door creaked open, revealing a rather grumpy looking man in a suit.

“Hello! I’m Claire Beauchamp, the nurse you hired for the summer.” I introduced myself and reached out my hand in greeting.

He didn’t take the hint, but instead stared at me, “And I’m the butler, Miss Beauchamp.”

Embarrassment mingled with disappointment washed over me as I offered my hand again, “Oh. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr…”

“Germain.” He shook my hand limply, ushering me into the grand house.

Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, this place was even more impressive on the inside.

Mr Germain cleared his throat, giving me a serious look. “Wait here, please.”

I wandered away from the door as soon as he disappeared around the corner, unable to help myself from taking a closer look at a portrait on the wall. It was exquisite. A young woman sat on a plush settee, auburn curls tumbling over her shoulders. I reached out my hand to trace the intricate carving of the frame and nearly jumped out of my skin when a voice spoke from just behind me.

“I’ll thank ye to no’ touch the art.”

I spun around, coming face to face with a tall and finely built man. His cold, blue eyes bore into mine as I quickly apologized, then added, “She’s beautiful, who is she?”

“My mother,” he answered, the muscles of his jaw tightening in annoyance.

His hair was the same deep auburn as the woman in the portrait, but wasn’t as cropped as the standard military fashion. He wore it a little longer, the soft curls brushing the tops of his ears and brows.

At five feet and nine inches, I was used to matching or surpassing men in the height department. Captain Fraser all but towered over me as I tipped my head back to look at him.

“Why are ye staring a’ me?” He bluntly asked, breaking into my mental assessment of his appearance.

Hesitating slightly, but then deciding to throw tact to the wind, I answered with a smile, “Well, it’s just that you don’t much look like a Captain, Captain.”

“And ye dinna look much like a nanny,” the Captain retorted hotly.

“That’s because I’m a nurse,” I grinned, “not a nanny”

He made a noise that communicated disapproval and acceptance, all at once, deep in his throat, “Mmhmm. Ye’ll have to change before ye meet the bairns.”

“Excuse me?” I blinked.

“Ye do own a set o’ scrubs, aye?” Captain Fraser asked, looking more and more annoyed by the second.

“Well, yes, but I didn’t pack –”

He sighed heavily. “I’ll have Mrs Fitz find something in yer size first thing in the morning. Ye’ll do for the time being. Now, Nurse…”

“Claire.” I provided.

Nodding, he continued, “Nurse Claire, I dinna ken how much the agency told ye.”

I shrugged, “Not much. Seven kids under the age of sixteen, youngest with severe allergies and other miscellaneous health concerns.”

He gestured for me to follow him down the hallway, not bothering to look at me as he spoke. “Ye are the twelfth nanny to come to care for my children since my wife died. I do hope ye’ll be an improvement on the last one. She was here barely more than an hour, two a’ most.”

Good Lord, what were these children? Monsters?

“What, ah, is wrong with them?”

Spinning on his heel, he leveled me with an ice cold stare. “There’s nothing wrong with my children, Nurse Claire, only the nannies.”

“Of course,” I back-peddled.

Watch yourself, Beauchamp.

“They were completely incapable of maintaining routine and discipline. I cannot abide my children to be without those two principles. Do I make myself clear, Nurse?

I nodded, then seeing he expected a verbal answer I replied, “Yes, sir.”

He turned away from me again, continuing down the hall.

“Every morning ye will tutor them in their studies. They are all fluent in French and the Gaelic, as well as English, save the youngest,” he instructed, then added in afterthought, “She does speak them conversationally, though.”

I could speak French fluently myself and looked forward to using the language again. Gaelic, however, was completely foreign to me. My steps slowed as I contemplated the reality of a small band of children who would be able to have entire conversations right in front of me without my knowing what on earth they were discussing. The Captain’s authoritative voice spurred me to catch up with him as he continued with my instructions.

“Ye will see to it that they study their individual coursework no less than four hours a day. Each afternoon, they will be given one-on-one instruction by their tutors in out of doors exercises. Bed time is eight o’clock on the dot, no exceptions.”

Slightly overwhelmed and confused, I asked, “Excuse me, sir, but when do they play?”

“Ye will do exactly as I say,” He paused with his hand on the doorknob.

“Yes, sir!” I saluted in huff.

His jaw clenched again, but he didn’t respond as he opened the door and stepped thru.

I followed him and found myself in a spacious and immaculately clean classroom. Seven desks sat evenly spaced against one wall, large maps and complicated diagrams lined the opposing. The walls were painted a stark white, making the room seem more like an institution than a place of study.

There wasn’t a piece of childish artwork to be found, except a very detailed still life of a bowl of fruit propped up on the top of one desk. It hardly counted. It was the most boring piece of art I had ever saw in my life, and I had been to many an art museum.

Captain Fraser pulled a small whistle from his pocket and blew a series of sharp, shrill notes. The sound of disorganized footsteps was heard beyond another door, but it quickly settled into a rhythmic marching. The door at the end of the row of desks opened and a single file line of children emerged.

At least, I thought they were children.

Dressed in a uniform outfit of green with white accents and moving in a precision that made the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace look sloppy, they could very well be a small brigade of the Captain’s military forces.

What on earth have you gotten yourself into, Beauchamp?


	2. Roll Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire meets Captain Fraser's children.

One - two - three - four - five - six. There should be seven.

Sure enough, there was an obvious space between children numbers four and five. Loud footfalls were heard as a young girl flew thru the door and skidded into position.

Captain Fraser stepped forward with an outstretched hand and eyebrow raised in silent rebuke. The girl handed him a book, her finger still holding it slightly ajar to mark her page. She made a small noise of dismay as he clapped it shut and handed it to me.

Collected Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the spine read. A mystery lover reading far above her age group.

Having collected his contraband, he inspected his troops.

Each child had something at fault to be fixed and he corrected them without so much as a word. His eldest’s son’s posture wasn’t all it could be, the youngest daughter’s bow was coming loose from her auburn curls.

He resumed his place at my side and cleared his throat, “Now, children, this is your new nanny, Mistress Beauchamp. Ye may address her as Nurse Claire or Mistress Claire.”

Seven sets of eyes fixed on me with renewed interest, their gazes ranging from mild curiosity to downright disapproval. I swallowed hard and tried to smile at them.

Buck up, Beauchamp, the fiends can smell fear.

“Listen carefully, Nurse, so that ye ken how to call them when ye want them.” He glanced at me to admonish this before turning back to his children. “Ye will step forward and give yer name when ye hear yer signal.”

He pulled a metal whistle from his pocket and began an indistinguishable series of dots and dashes, the tone and pitch each command deafening in the confines of the room. I placed one hand to my ear as I tried to hear the names being shouted at me as the children bopped in and out of their line.

“Ellen!” “William!” “Janet!” “Brian!” “Marsali!” “Joan!”

All went according to the Captain’s instructions until we got to the littlest of the Frasers. Freckled cheeks flushed, the sweetheart stomped forward, just like her siblings, but returned to her place without a word. I caught her father’s expression out the corner of my eye as I tried to hide my smile. His slight amusement was tempered with undeniable pride as he prompted her again.

Her little chin lifted in determination as she repeated her actions, still without introducing herself. It was the Captain’s turn to hide a grin, something he did with great skill.

“Margaret,” he provided.

Little Margaret pulled a face and it was all I could do not to laugh.

Gracious, she was adorable.

He handed me something, saying, “Let’s see how well ye listened.”

The hell was I going to whistle for a child like a dog.

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, sir. I’ll learn their names,” I tried to brush him off. “You’ve given them such beautiful names, it would be a shame not to use them.”

He sighed, obviously losing his patience with me. “Nurse, Lallybroch is a large estate and I willna have ye shouting after them like a fishmonger. Take it, the children will help ye.”

I accepted the metal tool of belittlement from him. Of course they would help me, they’d help me right out of a job. I wasn’t born yesterday.

“When I want ye, ye’ll hear this,” he continued and began another pattern of notes.

“Stop!” I cut him off. He and the children stared at me, eyes wide with surprise. “I will not answer to a whistle, sir. Whistles are for dogs and other beasts, not for children and certainly not for me.”

He gave me a cold look before turning to leave, apparently finished with my instructions. I blew a short blast on my whistle.

He may be done with me, but I wasn’t done with him.

The man froze, visibly bristling, then turned to face me.

“You didn’t tell me your signal.” I said simply.

He rose up to his full height and glared at me, “Ye can call me Captain.”

With that, he was gone. I stared out the door he had just disappeared thru and heard a chorus of giggles behind me. Maybe they were children after all. I turned back to them and they all snapped back to attention.

“At ease, soldiers.” I commanded, rolling my eyes heavenward when they immediately responded. “Now that we’re alone, could you tell me your names again? And how old you are?”

The eldest Fraser stepped forward. Her dark chestnut hair was plaited over one shoulder, her eyes flashing blue fire as she spoke. “I’m Ellen. I’m sixteen years old and I don’t need a nanny.”

I smiled, “We’ll just be good friends then, shall we?”

With a look of skepticism, Ellen stepped back and her brother, a tall and redheaded chap, stepped forward. “I’m William. I’m fourteen and I’m impossible.”

“Are you?” I laughed, “Who told you that?”

“Mistress Josephine, four nannies ago,” he answered, clearly proud of himself.

The next child, a young teen with freckles and strawberry blonde curls, moved forward, announced “I’m Marsali,” and stepped back into formation.

This one was going to be trouble.

“You didn’t tell me how old you were, Janet,” I grinned, letting her know she didn’t fool me for a second.

“I’m Marsali,” The bookworm stepped forward and shot a look of superiority towards her elder sister. “She’s Janet. She’s thirteen years old, and you’re smart. I’m ten, and I think your outfit is the ugliest I ever saw.”

I looked down at my clothes as the real Marsali stepped back in line. I knew I wasn’t wearing the latest fashion, but what was wrong with jeans and a button up blouse?

“Marsali, you shouldn’t say that.” A chubby cheeked boy between Janet and Marsali scolded.

“Why not? Don’t you think it’s ugly?” She retorted.

“Of course, but it’s not nearly as bad as Nanny Louise’s.” He explained in a matter of fact way, then stepped forward to introduce himself. “I’m Brian. I’m eleven. I’m incorrigible.”

Grinning, I responded, “Congratulations.”

“What’s incorrigible?” He asked, smiling back.

“I think it means you want to be treated like a boy, not a man.”

Satisfied with my answer, he stepped back in line and the next child stepped forward. She looked up at me shyly, motioning me to come closer. I did so and she took my hand.

“I’m Joan, and I’m going to be seven on Tuesday,” her voice was so sweet and innocent, “and I’d like a pink parasol.”

I winked at her, earning me an even sweeter smile. “Pink is my favorite too.”

Little Margaret stomped her foot beside me and I knelt in front of her. “Yes, sweetheart, and you’re Margaret?”

Beaming at me, now that we were on the same level, she held up all five fingers on her left hand. A leftie perhaps? “You’re five years old?” I feigned astonishment, much to her delight. “Why, you’re almost all grown up!”

Margaret and Joan shared a giggle, completely disregarding their former rigid formality. A look down the line told me the rest had as well. They now studied me in wary curiosity.

Who could blame them? Twelve nannies in, what, five years? That’s a new nanny every five months, on average. And hadn’t Captain Fraser mentioned that the last one only stayed two days?

“Can I tell you a secret?” I asked in a loud whisper, now that I had their full attention. “I’ve never been a nanny before.”

Janet got a mischievous gleam in her eye and I suddenly regretted voicing that thought. “You mean you don’t know anything about what you’re supposed to do?”

I shrugged, deciding to run with it since the cat was already out of the proverbial bag. “Not a thing. I could bandage a wound with my eyes closed but I haven’t the foggiest idea what to do with children.”

Brian snickered as Janet closed in on me. “Well,” she began slowly, “the best way to start is to tell Father to mind his own business.”

I tipped my head back and laughed outright. I had to admit, the idea was tempting. William eagerly hopped on Janet’s advice bandwagon as the rest of them crowded around me, “And never come to dinner on time!”

Marsali giggled, adding, “Never eat your soup quietly!”

Brian slurped loudly in my ear before practically shouting “Always blow your nose during desert!”

“Don’t listen to them, Nurse Claire!” A new voice sounded from behind me and I turned to see Margaret glaring at her siblings with all the wrath a five year old could muster, which was a considerable amount.

“Oh?” I chuckled. “Why is that?”

Throwing her arms about me, she proclaimed, “Because I like you!”

My heart felt like it was about to melt into a puddle right then and there. These children were so precious and they desperately needed the love I could give them.

I hugged precious little Margaret as a boisterous voice announced the housekeeper’s arrival. “Alright, children, ye best be off on yer walk. ‘Tis half past two an’ ye ken how yer father gets when ye are behind yer time,” the plump woman ensconced in an apron commanded as she began to shoo the children out of the room. “Dinna dawdle. Quick, quick, quick.”

They reluctantly obeyed, leaving by a door I hadn’t noticed before. The younger girls peeked over their shoulder to catch a last glimpse of me before going out and my heart skipped a beat.

“Nurse Claire, I’m Lallybroch’s housekeeper. Ye can call me Mrs Fitz, as everyone else does,” she extended a callused hand and I shook it.

“Pleased to meet you, and do call me Claire,” I requested. “‘Nurse’ is far too formal.”

Mrs Fitz shook her head, giving me a compassionate look. “If it isna formal, it isna acceptable a’ Lallybroch. Come, I’ll show ye to yer room.”

She led the way thru the door the children had exited from and I caught a quick glimpse of them as we started up the stairs.

“Poor things,” I commented quite to myself. I thought I heard Mrs Fitz make some sort of Scottish noise of amusement, but was distracted by a sudden movement in my pocket. I dropped my bags in surprise as whatever it was made a desperate attempt to flee. My hand closed around something slimy as I removed the wriggling creature and I let go of it on reflex.

A rather perturbed looking frog hopped away from my feet as Mrs Fitz spoke, “Ye got off lucky, 'twas a snake wi’ Nanny Louise.“


	3. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire's first meal with the Frasers of Lallybroch.

I almost fell down stairs in my haste to get to the dining room. Not even officially my first day of work and I was already late for dinner.

Seriously, Beauchamp? Do you not own a watch?

I could hear the captain’s voice praying over the meal as I took hold of the doorknob. “…in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

“Amen,” the children echoed and crossed themselves, suppressing grins as I hurried to the empty seat at the foot of the table.

The captain picked up his fork, not giving me so much as a glance. “Kind of ye to join us, Nurse.”

I nodded in deference, my face flaming as I pulled out my chair. .

“Fuh—dge!” I caught myself just in time as I sat down hard on what felt like a hedgehog. Reaching beneath me, I found a good sized pine cone. I hid it behind me and caught my employer’s look of disdain.

“I dinna ken how ye were raised, Nurse Claire, but we have dessert a’ the end o’ the meal.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” I muttered under my breath. I covertly looked round the table as I began to eat. The children were all giving great attention to their dinner.

At first glance, at least.

William looked as though he had swallowed the frog they had gifted me and Janet wasn’t much better off. Marsali kept glancing at me worriedly out the corner of her eye, while Joan was doing the same as she studied her father. Brian was staring a hole into his mashed potatoes, pushing his food around absently. Only the bookends of the family appeared to be untouched by this afternoon’s excitement.

I could work with this.

“I’d like to thank each of you for the gift you left in my pocket this afternoon,” I commented, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Janet coughed around a mouth full of roast beef as Joan became quite suddenly pale.

“Oh, aye? “An’ wha’ gift would tha’ be?” The captain raised a brow in question.

I met his gaze with the most angelic look I could muster. “It’s a secret.”

“Mhmm,” he made a sound of decided disapproval before going back to his meal, “then ye best keep it an’ let us eat in peace.”

The children were still around me, all pretense of eating coming to a complete halt.

Good.

“It was very kind of you, you know,” I continued, my voice sugary sweet, “to ease my nerves as I got acquainted with a new household. It was wonderful to have my first moments with you be so warm and happy and pleasant.”

I made sure to catch the Captain’s eye and grinned like an idiot. He forced a smile in return, meanwhile Joan dissolved into tears.

“What is the matter, Joan?” he asked rather testily.

Joan sat bolt upright at the question, but couldn’t stop the sobs that began to shake her frail shoulders. “N-nothing, Father.”

The captain looked at each of his children in turn with utter annoyance and bewilderment as they all began to cry, “Is this something I should expect at every meal, Nurse Claire?”

I was doing my level best not to laugh outright as I waved a hand dismissively, “Oh, they’re alright, Captain.”

My comment prompted a fresh wave of dismay and the captain sighed audibly with relief as the butler entered the room.

“A telegram for you, sir.” Germain handed him the missive with a look of disdain at the children.

Ellen perked up at the butler’s words and asked, “Who delivered it, Germain?”

“The McNab boy, Miss Ellen.”

I caught the light that suddenly appeared in her eye as she asked to be excused from the table. Hmm, a bit of a crush maybe?

Her father made a low Scottish noise of negation at her request and looked up to address the table, “I’ll be leaving for Edinburgh in the morn, children.”

Their wails increased in volume and each had a word or two to say about the matter. Despite Captain Fraser’s stern look, it was the quavering voice of their youngest sibling that silenced them in the end.

“How long will you be gone this time, Father?” Margaret asked, puppy dog eyes well in place.

Good Lord, I think I’d melt into a puddle right on the spot if she looked at me like that.

He shook his head, carefully avoiding her gaze. “I’m no’ sure, Margaret.”

Damn fool. He did know.

Janet’s head came up with a snap, too bright to not catch what was going on. “Are you going to visit Lady Dunsany again?”

“Mind your own business, Jenny,” William hissed in her ear.

Aha, first nickname of the group. I wonder how many others there’d be.

“‘Tis business that calls me to Edinburgh, but, aye, I will, Janet.” The captain answered.

“Why can’t we ever get to see her?” Jenny was apparently not thru with her father.

Brian glared at her across the table, “Why would she want to meet you?

She stuck out her tongue at him in retaliation, prompting their father to speak which put an end to the sibling warfare.

“The Lady Geneva will be returning wi’ me,” The children bounced with excitement at the news of her visit, but they outright rejoiced when the captain added, “an’ Uncle Ian too.”


	4. Adventures in Play Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire clothes the Fraser children from an unorthodox source and creates a summertime adventure.

It was absolutely beautiful summer day and I made the executive decision to cancel all indoor activities the children had. We packed a picnic lunch and all eight of us tramped around the grounds of Lallybroch until it grew quite late.

Sitting with my back against the stone wall of an old building, I basked in the sun like a lizard. The structure was a mill at one point, the children told me, but was long since retired. It had a small pond that was fed by a stream with giant trees shading it.

“Mistress Claire?” Jenny’s sleepy voice came from the grass beside me.

“Mmhmm?”

“Can we do this every day?” She turned her head to the side to face me, one eye cracking open as she grinned.

I laughed. “Don’t you think it’d get old after awhile?”

Sighing, she contemplated the idea, then suggested, “Every other day?”

A cheer rose up from Brian in the tree beside me. Willie had reached the highest, reliable branch in his tree and that apparently made his younger brother the winner by default. Little Maggie boasted not one, but two flower crowns and Jenny had plaited everyone’s hair with remarkable skill. Ellen had devoured an entire book this afternoon and had a good start on a second. Joan had a remarkable bouquet going, of which I was proud guardian while she found other blooms to add to it. Marsali taken roost beside me and pulled out her sketchbook to capture the intricacies of each bloom.

I wondered at the last time they were able to have fun and be children. How long ago had it been? Not laughed at a practical joke done to a caregiver or staff, but truly had fun. My heart ached to think that it had been months, if not years.

They were such wonderful children. So inquisitive and adventurous when given the opportunity to do as they please. I had watched the older children help the younger ones on numerous occasions just this morning alone. How could they play such awful tricks on people when I knew they had such kind hearts?

“What are you thinking about?” Marsali asked.

I chuckled to myself. You know your face is an open book, Beauchamp.

“I was just wondering why you play practical jokes on your nannies.”

Ellen lowered her book and raised her eyebrows, “How else would we get Father’s attention?”

Ah, yes. The age old “negative attention is better than no attention at all.” I suppose I would have done the same in their shoes. Brushing off the notion, I set the posy of wildflowers beside Marsali and picked up my guitar.

“What are we going to do now?” Brian eagerly inquired as he wandered over, having descended from adventure in the skies.

“We’re going to figure out a song for you to sing for Lady Geneva when she comes.” Had I not looked up from my instrument to answer him, I would have missed the almost telepathic messages of panic passed between the children. All of them looked completely petrified at the notion.

Jenny was the first to speak, “We don’t know how to sing, Mistress Claire.”

“Of course you do!” I waved them off, thinking them merely humble. “Everyone knows how to sing.”

“Except us.” Willie commented dryly.

I stared at them, turning from one face to the next. “You really don’t know how to sing?”

Maggie had plopped down in front of me and shook her head sadly. “No, Mistress Claire.”

I smiled down at her, knowing with all my heart that I was were I was supposed to me. “Well, then. I’ll just have to teach you.”

…

The sun was beginning to set as we made our way back to the house. Our shadows were long and distorted, causing no small amount of laughter. We were worn out and more than slightly muddy. I pulled a piece of clover from the shoulder of Joan’s blouse and wondered absently if the rest of them sported the layer of debris that she did. She had by far been the tamest of the pack, but even Joan was dirty from head to toe.

Sounds of crunching gravel and a motor signaled a car coming up behind us. Without needing instruction, the children immediately moved to the side of the road and turned to look at the approaching vehicle.

Jenny commented as it came into sight, “I think that’s Father.”

“No, it isn’t,” Brian argued. “He won’t be back for days.”

“But doesn’t it look like Old Alec is driving?” Willie asked of his siblings at large. They each had an opinion, but all waved just in case it was indeed their father as the vehicle passed. The windows were darkly tinted, obscuring our view. This only lead to more speculation as we continued our walk.

…

“It was Father!” Marsali shouted as we entered the dooryard.

The children surrounded him en mass with choruses of welcome and delight.

Grinning, I turned to the slender brunette standing beside the car. “You must be Lady Dunsany. I’m Claire Beauchamp, the nanny.”

Her gray eyes were filled with humor as she greeted me with formal civility. I had the impression it was all she could do not to laugh outright and wondered what she thought of Captain Fraser’s noisy brood. What he himself thought of them was evident as he blew a sharp, shrill blast on his whistle.

Their reaction was immediate. Spinning on their heels, they turned a complete about face and were in line in seconds. Brian and Marsali were having trouble containing their mirth, but as a whole they were right back to the orderly bunch I had met a few days before… save the mud.

The Captain walked up and down the line, ensuring order was at hand before speaking. “Children, this is Lady Dunsany…” He turned away from them with a pained expression and faced us. “…and these are my children.”

Lady Geneva schooled her features, nodding to them with a murmured, “How do you do?”

Captain Fraser snapped back around, dismissing the children with a command to go get cleaned up. I started to move with them, but was forced to stop as I found a fuming Scot standing in my way.

“I think I’d better go see what Ian is up to,” the Lady Geneva commented uneasily as she left us and walked into the house.

Now that we no longer had an audience, the Captain made no effort to hide his displeasure. Anger, was really more like it. “My children have proper clothing, Nurse. I would ask that they wear them.”

“Not for playing in, they don’t.” I retorted, ready for battle. These children were worth fighting for.

“An’ just where did ye find these…”

“Play clothes,” I supplied.

His brows rose, “Is tha’ what ye call them?”

“It is. I made them from the drapes in my room since they didn’t —”

“Drapes?!” He exploded. “Dinna tell me my children have been wandering about the countryside dressed in drapes!”

I smiled at the remembrance of little Maggie’s laughter as Willie swung her thru the air. “Umhmm, and having a marvelous time.”

“They have uniforms!”

“Straitjackets, if you ask me.” I muttered under my breath.

“I dinna ask ye!”

Well, too bad, because you’re going to hear it anyway.

“They can’t play if they have to worry about spoiling their precious clothes all the ti–”

“I havena heard them complain.” He interrupted, his jaw set firmly.

“They wouldn’t dare!” I exploded. “They love you too much! They’re afraid of you too!”

“I willna allow ye to speak of my children in this manner, Mistress Beauchamp,” the Captain’s blue eyes flashed.

“Well, you’ve got to hear it from someone!” I took a step forward, meeting him toe to toe. “You’re never home long enough to get to know them! Take Ellen, for instance. She isn’t a child anymore! One of these days you’re going to wake up and find she’s grown into a woman. You won’t even know her!”

His face was becoming rather red, but I took little heed. He needed to hear this whether he liked it or not. 

“I said, I willna—”

“And what about William? He’s still a boy, but he wants so badly to be a man like you!”

He grabbed hold of my shoulders, his nose inches from mine. “Don’t ye dare speak of my son like–”

“Marsali could tell you about him,” my chin rose in defiance as I all but shouted up at him, “She notices everything! And Jenny, and Brian, and–”

“They are my children an’–”

“I’m not finished yet, Captain!” I shouted.

“Aye, ye are, Captain!” He responded in kind.

I blinked, completely taken aback.

“Nurse Beauchamp, I mean.” He took a step away from me, dropping his hands as he gained control over his voice. “Your services are no longer necess–”

The chorus of the song I had taught the children wafted thru the open window of the parlor. A hesitant chord was strummed as well and the sound sent a shock-wave thru the Captain. He tensed, turning towards it.

When he looked back to me a phrase or two later, his face was completely changed. He stood before me, but it was obvious his mind was far afield. “What is tha’?” He asked.

“It’s singing,” I answered, my heart aching for the children whose voices were entwined in harmony.

“Aye, I ken,” he shook his head, almost as if he was trying to dispel the vapors of the past. “But who?”

“Your children.”

His brows skyrocketed in the same gesture Ellen had used this very afternoon, “My children?”

I didn’t answer, but watched in silence as he slowly moved towards the open door. I followed once he was inside, standing in the shadows of the entry way and marveling at the scene before me.

The Captain stood at the center of the room with his children surrounding him on all sides. Little Maggie was in Willie’s arms and she reached instinctively for her father. My breath caught in my throat as he picked her up and held her close. He patted Joan on the head tenderly as she beamed up at him with her gap-toothed smile. Marsali bent and whispered something in her ear, prompting Joan to move towards Lady Dunsany with a small posy of her wildflowers outstretched in one hand.

“For me?” Lady Geneva smiled warmly at Joan, then looked to her father. “James, you never told me how wonderful your children are!’

James. Captain Fraser had a name after all. It suited him, I thought.

He turned his gaze to the door and I knew he had saw me. Drat. I quickly moved towards the stairs. He had just fired me, after all, and here I stood infringing on their intimate family moment.

“Nurse…” His voice stopped me just as my foot reached the bottom step. He crossed the hallway quickly and continued. “I, ah, shouldna have acted in such a manner towards ye. I apologize.”

I shook my head, “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m far too outspoken for my own good.”

He dropped his eyes as well as his voice, “Ye were right in yer words. I dinna ken my own children.”

“It’s not too late to get to know them, Captain. They desperately want to know you.” I said gently as I made my way up the stairs.

“Wait,” he bounded around the banister and stood a step below me, our eyes meeting as our difference in height vanished. “I want ye to stay.”

My surprise must have shown for he smiled at me rather meekly, adding, “I ask ye to stay, tha’ is.”

“If you really want me to,” I commented, more than a little unsure.

He nodded, “I do, I couldna find a better nanny.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am. Ye’ve brought music back into the house, I’d forgotten,” he said in all seriousness, then broke out into a wide smile. “Besides, I dinna think the agency would send me another nanny wi’ my track record.”


	5. O Captain, My Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire attends a party hosted at Lallybroch and converses with Lady Geneva

I stepped out onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air and found the Fraser children had had the same idea.

Ellen and Willie were laughing as they expertly waltzed circles around Jenny and Brian, the elder pair trying to teach the younger the fundamentals of the dance and not succeeding overmuch. Marsali called out, what I’m sure she thought were, helpful suggestions as she stood atop a bench. Joan and Maggie beamed from ear to ear, twirling ‘round and ‘round in the only dance step they knew: excitement.

“Here, let me try,” I offered when a new song began and took Jenny’s place.

The teenager rolled her eyes melodramatically, warning, “Watch your toes, Mistress Claire.”

I winked at Brian whose brows were furrowed in determination, giving his nose a playful tweak. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.”

“I keep losing count,” he complained.

Marsali cackled with glee, “How hard is it to count to three?”

Giving her a look, I cut off Brian’s retort. “Then I’ll count, you just move your feet. Ready? ONE - two - three, ONE - two - three, ONE - two - three.”

We shuffled about the terrace, song after song. Brian did catch on quickly with a more patient teacher and soon we even tried to throw in a turn. It didn’t end well, crashing headlong into Ellen and Willie instead of changing direction.

“Again, again!” Brian begged as a new melody started up.

“But this is a foxtrot,” I tried to explain, “I’m not sure I know it well en–”

“May I be of assistance?” The Captain quite suddenly asked, taking me completely by surprise. How could a man that tall appear out of thin air without a sound?

My hand flew to my neck, my pulse beating erratically as I stammered, “I, ah, that is, you should teach Ellen. She’s a magnificent dancer.”

He looked slightly amused as he offered his hand, “She kens the foxtrot well enough.”

I turned to find Ellen dutifully teaching Willie the steps. “Slow, quick, quick,” her voice floated past as they danced by.

“Show us too, Father,” Brian urged, grabbing Jenny by the hands and pulling her back into the middle of the terrace. “How does it go?”

“May I have this dance?” He asked, bowing low. His hand was still outstretched and I took it reluctantly. Brian tried to emulate his father’s courtly bow and nearly fell over in the process. I heard the captain chuckle as he drew me closer, placing his left hand on my lower back and stepping into the dance.

God, he smelled wonderful.

A more than competent dancer himself, he guided me effortlessly around the veranda for a time before commenting, “I wanted to thank ye, Nurse Claire, for all ye’ve done for my children.”

“Oh, but they’re so delightful that it’s really no trouble at all, Captain, truly.” I rambled like a lovesick schoolgirl, making my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

How had I never noticed what a deep blue his eyes were? They were magnificent. Rimmed in long lashes that somehow were a lighter shade of auburn at their base, the glow of the ballroom made them gleam like precious gemstones. He smiled then and it took my very breath away.

He didn’t speak again and, as I didn’t trust my own tongue, I embraced the silence. I felt like he may think me staring at him, so I dropped my gaze. My left hand rested just beside his lapel and the sparkle of my mother’s ring caught my eye.

She and my father had died in a car accident when I was young, making the small cabochon ruby encircled in diamonds of infinite value to me. I wore it on my ring finger, as that’s where it fit the best, and I absently wondered what they would have thought of my dashing Captain Fraser.

My Captain Fraser.

He wasn’t mine. He could never be mine. At least ten years my senior, he was completely out of my league in terms of social status, and a widower with seven children to boot.

The song ended long before I was ready, my heart aching as he stepped away.

Pull yourself together, Beauchamp.

Marsali suddenly appeared beside me, commenting loudly “Your face is all red.”

“Is it?” I asked lamely, scrambling for something intelligent to say. “I guess I’m not used to dancing.”

Brilliant, I mentally kicked myself, you’re bloody brilliant.

Footsteps echoed on the paved patio and I turned to see Lady Dunsany walking towards us with Ian in her wake. She was making an effort to hide her jealous rage, but the scathing tone of her voice and set of her jaw gave her away. “Why, that was beautiful. What a lovely couple you’d make.”

The light in the captain’s eyes disappeared at once and it had nothing to do with Ian blocking the glow from the ballroom. I caught the distracted glance he gave her as he responded, making me wonder if I had flustered him the way he had me. A hint of a blush crept above his neatly pressed collar and I wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

I felt three sets of eyes trained on me as I realized he had said it was time for the children to go to bed.

“Right! Yes!” I agreed, jerking to attention and tearing my eyes from his lips, “Let’s go, children. Come along.”

Turning my back to the adults, I quickly gathered the children into a clump, making preparations to leave the party via the garden next to the veranda. We would disappear to the east wing without disturbing the guests and in relative haste. I wished the ground would open and swallow me whole, but retiring with the children was the next best thing.

We were almost to the cobblestone path when a strong arm came around my shoulders and guided me back, “Jamie! Ye canna let the lass be tucked awa’ with the bairns for the night! She must come to the party!”

My heart skipped a beat at the discovery of the captain’s pet name. I knew his given name was James, and had assumed that he went by some sort of nickname with his family, but to hear it spoken aloud…

“Oh, but really, I can’t, I–” I tried to protest as we moved closer and closer to Lady Geneva and the Captain.

“Dinna fash,” Ian waved his hand in dismissal, then beckoned to Germain who happened to walk past, “Seat the lass next to me, will ye?”

The disgruntled butler looked to me and back to Ian, “If you insist, Mr. Murray.”

I broke the awkward silence that followed by pointing out the obvious, “I’m, ah, not dressed for it, Mr. Murray.”

Ian nodded, seeming to notice this for the first time, and grinned, “Ye have time to change, I’ll see to it.”

…

Lady Geneva had followed me up to my room despite my best effort to ditch her.

I opened my closet doors and stared stupidly at the clothing. All suitable for being with the children, even a few business formal outfits for if the occasion arose, but none would work for the dinner downstairs. “I’m not sure I have anything that would be appropriate.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Geneva spoke from behind me, sounding very condescending, “Where is that lovely little thing you had on when the Captain couldn’t keep his eyes off you?”

I spun around, “Couldn’t what?”

She smiled coyly as she stood next to me, “Come now, we are women; we know when a man notices us. You really are quite attractive, you know. The captain would hardly be a man if he didn’t notice you”

“I do hope you’re joking, Lady Dunsany,” I swallowed hard.

“Not at all.” She turned to me, eyes wide in mock innocence as she held a blue sundress in her hands.

Holyrood. I had wore the dress to Holyrood when she and the captain took the children on a tour of the palace. They hadn’t really needed me, which meant I had time to wander behind them and admire the place myself.

My mind replayed every interaction I’ve ever had with the man, searching for something that could have betrayed my feelings.

“But I’ve never–”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to, my dear,” she looked over her shoulder as she laid the dress on my bed, “There’s nothing more irresistible to a man than a woman who’s in love with him.”

A woman who’s in love with him.

The air seemed to leave my lungs in a rush, “Is that so?”

“Of course! And what makes it all so nice is that he thinks he’s in love with you.”

“No,” I shook my head, “That’s not true.”

He couldn’t be in love with me.

Her eyebrows rose, “Surely, you’ve noticed the way he looks into your eyes… and you were blushing just now when the two of you were dancing.”

I’d always been told everything I thought showed on my face, but I had worked so hard to not give myself away. To love him from a distance, without his even being aware of it.

It seemed I had failed.

“Don’t worry, my dear, he’ll get over it soon enough, I should think,” shrugged noncommittally, “Men do, you know.”

I knew he would, but I wasn’t sure I could. Something deep within my heart told me that I would always love him.

So what now?

I couldn’t go on being a nanny to his children when he knew my feelings towards him. I couldn’t face him, couldn’t look him in the eye and see the truth.

What was the truth? Do I believe this woman? Does he really love me?

My heart sank as I realized that even if he did love me, we could never be together. We were from two completely different worlds, completely opposite stations in life. I couldn’t live in his and I would never ask him to lower himself to mine.

I have to leave.

I jumped, not realizing I had said this aloud, as Lady Geneva asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”


	6. A Prior Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire returns to Lallybroch to find Captain Fraser engaged to Lady Geneva.

L’Orphelinat et L’Hôpital des Anges, Edinburgh, Scotland.

A noise caught my attention as I wandered aimlessly about the garden.

“We have to see her!” My heart dropped to my toes as I realized it was Willie Fraser’s voice, “Will you tell her we’re here, please?”

I heard echoes of “please” as all the children chimed in. A wave of pain washed over me as I pressed my face against the cold stone wall that separated us. They’d be at the gate, having been greeted by one of the sisters.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, children,” Sister Margaret’s gentle tone was my undoing. I slid to the ground, burying my face in my knees as the children I so treasured begged to see me.

“Oh, but you’ve got to!” Ellen exclaimed, her determination so like her father’s. “We have to speak to her.”

“She’s our nanny,” Marsali explained.

Joan piping in, “We want her back!”

We want her back.

“I’m so very sorry, but Claire is in seclusion. She won’t see anyone.”

“She’ll see us!” Jenny was adamant, “I know she will!”

There was a pause and I heard Maggie mournfully beseech, “I want to show her my finger.”

The precious darling has hurt herself and you’re the one she wants to see, Beauchamp. You’re the one she wants to make it all better. Not her father, not her housekeeper, you.

But I couldn’t make it better. I couldn’t even make it remotely better. All I could do is make things worse.

With that thought, I rose and ran from the garden, leaving the chorus of petitions to see me in the dust.

…

Mother Hildegard smiled compassionately at me, tucking a wayward curl behind my ear. “You’ve been unhappy, Claire, and I’m sorry for it.”

I weakly attempted a smile in return, but I knew she would see right thru it. She was the closest thing I had to a mother and she often seemed to know be better than I knew myself.

“Why did they send you back to us?” The question held only a suggestion of reproach.

“They didn’t,” I turned to look out the window, avoiding her gaze. “I left.”

A tender hand cupped my cheek and turned my face, “Look at me, ma chère. Tell me what happened.”

Tears threatened to spill for the millionth time today as I began, “I was frightened.”

“Were they unkind to you?” she bristled.

“Oh, no!” I hurried to explain, “No, not at all. It’s just that I was — I was confused. I felt like — I’ve never felt that way before, Mother Hildegard…” I swallowed hard before continuing, “I couldn’t stay and I knew that if I came back here, I’d be away from it. I would be safe here.”

She shook her head, well aware of my flight-over-fight tendencies. “Running from your problems will not solve them, Claire, it only makes them grow. What is it that you feel you cannot face?”

Jamie’s face swam into view as my tears dripped off the end of my nose.

“I can’t face him again.”

The Reverend Mother’s eyes slid shut a moment as a small smile graced her lips, “Ah, I see. The Captain, yes?”

I nodded, accepting the tissue she offered.

“Are you in love with him, ma chère?”

The word love sent a jolt of electricity down my spine, clenching the muscles of my lower abdomen, and made me want to run for the hills.

“I don’t know!” I sobbed, “I don’t know! Lady Dunsaney told me— she said that I was and — and that he was in love with me, but I didn’t want to believe it. There were times when I would — when I looked at him, I could hardly breathe!”

Her weathered hand took mine, “Did you let him see how you felt?”

I shrugged, sniffing, “If I did, I didn’t know it. That’s why I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t stand to be near him and know that he was promised to another, but here I can! I can forget about him and how he made me feel. I can work with you, here at the hospital, and do what I know I was made to do!”

“Ma chère, you were made with a great capacity to love, it is what enables you to be such a wonderful nurse,” she gripped my hand tightly, “but you must find out how God wants you to spend your love. You must go back.”

All of the air seemed to leave my lungs in a great whoosh.

“No! You can’t ask me to do that! Please, let me stay!”

“You have to face your problems, Claire,” she pulled me into her arms. “You know we will all be praying for you and that God will be with you as you go. He’ll never leave, nor forsake you, ma chère, but you have to live the life that you were born to live.”

…

Lallybroch, Scotland.

“You left without saying goodbye,” Jamie’s eyes were fathomless blue depths, iced over with hurt and betrayal, “even to the children.

I flinched, “I know. Forgive me?”

He tilted his head, studying me with furrowed brows, “Why did you?”

“Please don’t ask me that,” my heart leapt into my throat. “Besides, the reason no longer exists.”

One eyebrow arched in question, his mouth opening to speak, but was interrupted as Lady Geneva walked onto the veranda.

“Nurse Claire, you’ve returned! Isn’t it wonderful, James?” She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, patting it possessively.

A cold fist tightened around my heart as I spoke the words I had mentally rehearsed, “I wish you every happiness, Lady Dunsaney, and you too, Captain. The children tell me you’re going to be married.”

“Thank you, my dear,” she smugly replied.

I nodded to the both of them and turned, making my way to the door where the children had just exited.

You’ve done it, Beauchamp. Now just keep walking. The worst is behind you.

My heart stopped all together as the Captain asked, “You’re back to stay, aye?”

Don’t let him see it, Beauchamp.

I straightened my shoulders and turned to look over my shoulder at the two of them.

“Only until you find another nanny.”

…

Unable to sleep and unable to stay within the walls of the house, I made my way to the back garden. It was a secluded little spot, not visible from any of the bedrooms, and I knew I would have the privacy I needed to sort thru the events of the day. Brushing a few dried leaves off a wooden bench, I sat and let my tears run freely.

“Hello,” a sudden voice sounded behind me, spoken by the last person in the world I wanted to see right now, and it made me jump. “I thought I might find ye here.”

I hastily brushed the sleeve of my shirt across my eyes, swallowing hard before asking, “Was there something you wanted?”

He walked around the bench, stopping to stand at the other end, and waved my offer away, “Nae, no’ at all. Mind if I join ye?”

Mind? Of course, I mind, you bloody Scot.

I was thankful for the darkness. It not only hid my tears, but the near mutinous look I gave him. He took my lack of answer as an invitation and sat less than an arm’s length away from me. Warmth rushed to my cheeks as I realized how magnificent he looked in the moonlight.

You’re hopeless, Beauchamp, absolutely hopeless.

“I — ah — was thinking, ye ken —” he stammered, breaking the awkward silence, “an’ I was wondering — about two things, really —”

I looked at him, noticing that his brogue became more pronounced when he was flustered, and realizing that he was more than a little uncomfortable. As if he felt my eyes on him, he turned to face me as well.

Our gazes met and, for the life of me, I couldn’t look away.

“Why did ye leave?” He asked, his voice low. “And what was it tha’ made ye come back?”

I left because I loved you and I came back to see if the feeling was mutual.

Instead, I answered, “I have an obligation to fulfill and I came back to fulfill it.”

“Mhmm,” came his reflexive Scottish reply, his eyes seeing right thru me, “Is tha’ all?”

No.

“And I missed the children,” I blurted.

Well, while that wasn’t all of it, it certainly wasn’t a lie.

“Oh, aye, but — ah — only the children? I was hoping that ye — ah — perhaps ye might — well—” his hand rubbed at the back of his neck as he took a deep breath and plunged ahead, “‘tis just that nothin’ was the same when ye were away and all will be wrong again after ye leave, an’ — I thought — maybe — ye could change your mind?”

He’s asking me to stay.

I reflexively stood and backed away from the bench, words that I didn’t mean tumbling out of my mouth, “I’m sure Lady Dunsaney will be able to set things right for you.”

Jamie stood as well, shaking his head and closing the distance between us, “Please, let me–”

“Good night, Captain,” I interrupted him and turned, praying he’d let me walk away.

“Claire!”

I froze.

He’d never called me by name. I was always Nurse Claire or Mistress Claire or even just Nurse, but never Claire, and never like that.

“The engagement is off, Claire. I canna mary Geneva when I’m in love wi’ you.”

I couldn’t move or speak as Jamie came to stand in front of me.

“Tha gaol agam ort, mo nighean donn.”

“What did you say?” I asked, feeling rather breathless.

“I said I love you.” He reached for my hand and I let him take it. Sliding my fingers between his, I leaned into him. His other arm came around me as he held me close.

“Do you ken the first moment I fell in love wi’ ye?” The question vibrated thru his chest cavity, sending shock waves all the way down to my toes. I tipped my head to look up at him and he smiled, “‘Twas when ye sat on that wee pine-cone at dinner.”

“I think mine was when you blew that silly whistle,” I admitted.

I heard his breath catch before he whispered, “Then ye feel the same?”

“Yes,” I answered, in that same, hushed tone.

Jamie’s face softened, taking on a gentleness that I had never seen before.

“I would verra much like to kiss ye, Claire,” Jamie’s hand moved to cup my cheek, “may I?”

“Please,” I begged.

He lowered his lips to mine and I melted into him.

Wrapping my arms about his neck, I tangled my fingers in his curls. Jamie began to break away much before I was ready and I stood on tiptoe, moving with him, silently imploring him to continue. A warmth welled up within me as he responded by pulling me tighter against him, his hand moving to my lower back.

We came up for air, at length, and stood grinning at each other like school children.

“I love you, James Fraser.”

…

I had been convinced all day that today was the day Jamie was going to propose to me.

Every moment had been full of beautifully orchestrated opportunities: a leisurely stroll thru Lallybroch’s extensive gardens, tea for two at a cozy little cafe in Broch Mordha, a scenic drive to Inverness where we window-shopped and dreamed of a future together.

But the moment I knew without a doubt that something was afoot was when he insisted on buying me the dress I had fallen in love with. He’d even convinced me to change into it there at the boutique. Jamie casually mentioned that he’d been meaning to try the restaurant across the street, asking if I was hungry for dinner, while I was behind the closed door of the dressing room. Then he grinned like the proverbial cat who had swallowed the canary as we sat down at our private table.

And, yet, the question remained unasked.

The meal had ended and we were now back in the car. I couldn’t help but feel a little miffed as we rode in almost silence. It wasn’t quite dark yet as we pulled into the drive, but the manor house was alight, every window gleaming. There were white lights twinkling in every shrubbery and the front door stood open, beckoning us in with a pathway of strewn flower petals.

Jamie offered his hand as he opened my door, inquiring, “Ready?”

This was it.

“Yes,” I whispered.

We climbed front steps together and stepped over the threshold in tandem. I could hear Maggie’s giggle from the entryway, followed by whirlwind of “shh”s from her siblings. I squeezed Jamie’s hand and he squeezed mine right back. After walking thru the second set of doors, we could now see what all the commotion was about.

There, standing at attention in perfect spacing, were all of the children. Each of them held a sort of placard with a letter on it. It took me only a moment to realize that it spelled:  
MARRY ME

My hand flew to my mouth, but I was unable to contain my wordless exclamation of joy.

“And… switch!” Ellen commanded.

All at once, they turned their cards over, revealing:  
PLEASE?

I laughed as Marsali quickly yanked Joan to her side and Maggie followed, closing the gap that had been the space between the first two words.

Jamie moved beside me, going down on one knee. He took a small, black box out of his pocket and opened it. I wasn’t sure if it was my tears or the refraction of the chandelier’s light that made the diamond shimmer and gleam.

“Will ye, Claire?”

Finding words impossible, I nodded and pulled him to his feet. Time stood still as I kissed him, my heart taking in every detail of the moment.

The deep, masculine scent of his cologne.

The feel of his lips against mine.

The rush of the children as they crowded around us, each expressing their utmost happiness over my answer.

The look in his eyes as he pulled away, every thundering heartbeat echoing my promise of undying love.


	7. A New Day Dawning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire has a sleep over with her soon-to-be daughters the night before her wedding to the Captain.

June 16th.

I woke well before dawn to sound of one of my soon-to-be daughters vomiting. Cursing under my breath, I hurried to the bathroom and found Jenny hunched over the porcelain bowl.

“Oh, lovie, why didn’t you wake me?” I knelt and swept the curls away from her face. For all her bravado and sass, Jenny had an incredibly nervous stomach with an anxious spirit to match.

She turned to me, her brow furrowed, “Because you’re getting married in the morning!”

My heart ached as I grabbed a towel, wiping her mouth and drying her tears.

“If you think for one second that a silly dress and a party is more important to me than you are, Janet Isobel Fraser, you are horribly mistaken. I’d wear a paper sack to the altar if it meant I could keep you from being sick.”

Jenny shrugged as she moved to lean against me, “I’m used to it.”

“I know,” I hugged her tight, “but that’s not my point. I would do anything - anything - for you.”

She sniffed but didn’t speak.

Jamie’s children hadn’t, on most days, had any qualms about me becoming their step-mother. I’d had many a conversation with them about what they would call me, what their life would look like in the future, and what they remembered of their mother. The littlest ones had only vague memories of Jamie’s first wife, but Ellen was Marsali’s age when their mother had passed, making Jenny barely seven. While the eldest Frasers were eager for me to be a part of their family, they naturally had reservations over me replacing the mother they held in very high regard.

Ellen and Willie had taken me at my word that all I wanted was to simply be me. I had no intention of forcing them to call me mother or any derivative, and I most certainly did not want them to ever forget the mother they had lost. I’d told them of my own childhood, how both of my parents and my only uncle were killed in a car accident when I was five. I wanted them to know I knew what it was like to lose someone so dear, to have a giant void in your life.

But now that void, that chasm of empty hopes and dreams, was being filled.

I now knew what it was like to belong. I knew how it felt to love someone and have them love me back, to hold a child in my arms who I may not have given birth to, but who would now forever be mine.

I smiled at the thought.

This tousle-headed teenager was mine.

Jenny had her father’s big blue eyes that were a window to her beautiful soul. She hated to let her siblings see her fragile heart or for them to ever know that the world could knock her down. She was one who saw possibility in everything and in everyone. It was almost as if that’s what fed her drive to egg on her siblings, especially her brothers. She knew they were capable of more, regardless of whether the action was right or wrong, and she wanted to be sure she saw it happen.

It was also Jenny who had struggled the most with her father’s engagement.

I kissed the top of her head, “What’s got you up this early?”

“Stuff and nonsense,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably on the tile floor.

I’d referred to something as such once and the children had latched onto it, fully absorbing it into their vernacular, but not always using it in the manner or context that I would have. Jenny was simultaneously teasing me and avoiding the question, both were things she excelled at.

“Oh, is that all?” I poked her gently in the ribs and stood, “Do you think you can fall back to sleep?”

Another shrug.

“The sofa’s comfy too, shall I grab your pillow?”

Jenny gave me a nod this time and I quietly headed back into the bedroom.

“She ok?” Ellen’s head rose from her pillow.

“Yes,” I whispered back, hoping none of the other girls were awake.

Ellen sat up and moved to get out of the cot we’d moved in for the girls’ slumber party, urging, “You should go back to sleep, I can sit with her.”

I pushed her back down with a sigh and snagged Jenny’s pillow and blanket, as well as mine.

“Thanks, Elle, but I’ve got her. I don’t think I could go back to sleep anyway.”

“Butterflies?” Her teeth flashed white in the moonlight as she grinned.

I whumpped her with my pillow and she giggled, “Try stampeding elephants.”

…

Jenny had chosen to watch Peter Pan as a distraction in hopes of falling asleep. I’d drifted off sometime after they arrived in Never Never Land, but was roused again when Joan tentatively whispered, “Can I sleep with you?”

“Of course, cricket,” I murmured as I made room for her beside me. She slipped beneath the covers and was asleep again in moments, her head nestled beneath my chin.

Wendy’s voice drifted into my consciousness as I heard the pattering of little feet.

She’s the angel voice that bids you goodnight…

It was Maggie. Wherever Joan went, her younger sister wasn’t far behind. She smiled sleepily at me as she found the only free space on the sofa and wiggled into it.

Kisses your cheek, whispers sleep tight…

Four people sleeping on my average sized sofa was more than cozy, but no force on earth could move me from this spot. My heart began to sing along with Wendy as I drifted back to sleep with sweet Joan in my arms.

Your mother and mine, your mother and mine…

…

I woke sometime later to find the sun streaming into the living room and the Wizard of Oz playing on the tv. Blinking heavily, I discovered Marsali sound asleep in the winged back chair in the corner. The film was her favorite, as was the chair, and I was sure she’d put it in when she joined us.

How long ago had that been?

The Wizard frantically called, “Pay no mind to the man behind the curtain!”

Quite a while, it seemed. I lifted my head from the pillow and found Ellen curled up with a blanket in the overstuffed chair beside me. Turning from the screen, she greeted me.

“Good morning to you too,” I groggily responded. “What time is it?”

“About eight o’clock.”

Only six more hours to go, Beauchamp.

Joan stirred and began to wake. She clung to me, making small morning noises and generally melting my heart into a puddle. I caressed her cheek gently with my thumb as she opened her clear, blue eyes. She looked up at me in confusion for a moment, then smiled and whispered, “Happy Wedding Day!”

I pulled her close, tickling her gently, “Happy Wedding Day to you too.”

“I’m not getting married,” she giggled, “you are!”

Maggie sat up at this announcement and bounced joyfully atop Jenny as she loudly inquired, “Can I put on my dress yet?”

Jenny moaned gedoffame and pushed her littlest sister sideways. The five year old shrieked with glee as she collapsed onto my legs, then wriggled her way in between Joan and I.

“Maggieeeeee,” Joan wailed as her sister invaded her space and pushed her off the edge of the sofa. Ellen reached out her arms and she willingly moved into them.

A yawn sounded from the corner as Marsali drowsily joined the growing conversation with, “Is it time to get ready yet?”

“I think it’s time for breakfast,” I laughed.

“Good,” she responded emphatically as she pulled the blanket over her head, “I’m hungry.”

…

My maid of honor Geillis and Jamie’s sister Jenny swept into the apartment in a flurry of excitement, bearing fresh pastries and hot coffee.

Geillis, ever the American, had gotten me hooked on the wonderfully caffeinated substance during our many studying sessions during Nurse’s Training. She knew exactly what I liked in my coffee and just where to get the best cup available: Cafe Raymond. The cozy coffeehouse was only a block or so from L’Hopital, just over on Roseneath Terrace.

The children had grown to love it as well in our trips to Edinburgh in preparation for today.

Today.

I’m getting married today.

I sat down hard in front of my vanity and reached for my latte. The hot liquid did little to melt the icy shards of doubt that began to poke into my thoughts. Trying to focus on the girls and not on my quickly disappearing sense of internal calm, I watched in the mirror as Ellen skillfully resolved a problem between Marsali and Maggie.

“But it has a M on it!” Maggie whined.

Jamie and I had given each of the children a wedding gift to be opened this morning. The girls received monogrammed dressing gowns and a small string of pearls fashioned from an heirloom that had been passed down to Jamie’s mother. I had a strand of my own that went beautifully with my dress to wear today as well.

The boys received cufflinks of a unique sort of ivory. Oral family history said that the wild boar’s tusks had been given to an ancestor before the Jacobite rising of 1745. Jamie’s grandfather, Jacob MacKenzie, had several sets of cufflinks made from them for himself and passed them onto his eldest grandson.

“It does have an M on it,” Ellen agreed calmly, “but what other letters do you see?”

“A F an’ a E!” Maggie responded triumphantly, “For Margaret Elizabeth Fraser.”

Marsali made a defiant noise of exasperation, “That’s a C for CATHERINE!!”

“If you didn’t know how to read cursive, like you do, Marsali,” Ellen lowered her voice and placed her hand on her sister’s arm, effectively defusing another explosion, “wouldn’t you say it kind of looks like an E?”

“Maybe,” she grumbled as she glared at Maggie.

“And, Maggie, doesn’t this one look kind of big for you?”

Maggie’s little chin came up, not quite ready to quit, “That’s because I’m a big girl.”

I caught the smile Ellen managed to hide.

“You are, but this one is Marsali’s.”

“Then where’s mine?” Maggie demanded.

“I’m not sure,” Ellen replied as she turned Maggie towards the bedroom door and ushered her out. “I’ll help you find it, though.”

The interchange reminded me how much the children had changed in the time I’d spent with them. They grew up so fast, and before we knew it Maggie would be the one who was sixteen-going-on-seventeen. What would happen in ten years when Jamie no longer needed a mother for his children?

Panic welled within me and I moved to the stand at window, pressing my forehead against the glass. The icy fingers of intrusive thoughts quickly formed a frigid fist around my heart. My doubts began to pile on top of each other, each one pressing down with the weight of a thousand bricks.

How well did I really know this man? I’d been at Lallybroch a mere six months before we began our relationship and it’d only been four since then. Ten months. I’d known the man less than a year and, yet, in a matter of hours, I’d be married to him.

Are you really going to do this, Beauchamp?

The urge to run as far away from here as possible overpowered any and all hope of logical, rational thought and I had to grab hold of the window sill to stay upright. I heard the apartment door open and close, nothing unusual as the girls had been going out and coming back in all morning, but the low resonance of a certain male voice announced the entrance of my intended.

I spun around and fled into my walk-in closet, quickly shutting the door behind me.

“May I come in, Claire?” Jamie knocked on the open bedroom door.

No, Captain James Fraser, you bloody can’t.

Silence fell and I heard Geillis encourage him from the living room, “She’s in there somewhere.”

Traitor.

Jamie’s footsteps drew closer, his voice dropping in discretion, “Are you alright, mo nighean donn?”

“No,” I sniffed, wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my dressing gown.

A Scottish noise of empathy sounded as he stopped outside the closet door. He tried to open it, but stopped at my resistance.

“Please let me in,” he begged.

My tears were falling in earnest now and I pressed my fist to my mouth to keep him from hearing me cry.

“Claire,” he leaned against the door, tears of his own evident in his voice, “mo chridhe, you’re tearing my guts out.”

I slid down the door into a heap, burying my face in my hands. Jamie followed me down and I heard his knees hit the floor with a dull thud, “Will ye no’ let me see you?”

“Why?” I cried, my words escaping before I had control over them. “I don’t even know you and you know absolutely nothing about my life before I met you.”

“I have nothing to bring to this marriage, Jamie. You have a family and an estate and a career, and I have nothing. Nothing! All I have is a box full of photographs of people I don’t remember and what you’ve paid me in my bank account!”

“That’s it,” my voice cracked, “all I have is me!”

Jamie drew in a long, shaky breath and let it out again before speaking. I expected him to be broken, crestfallen at my revelation, but instead I could hear a hint of a smile in his voice. He slid his hand thru the considerable space between the floor and the door, palm up in supplication, “Tis you that I want, Claire, nothin’ more.”

“How can you want me when you don’t know anything about me?”

“I ken what matters,” he answered confidently

His hand slid closer, but didn’t touch me and I glared at it, “What the hell does that mean?”

“I mean I ken you, Claire,” his smile was in full force now, damn him. “I ken that you prefer honey to sugar in your tea. I ken you’ll stand toe to toe wi’ anyone who dares to threaten those you hold dear, but you run from-”

“I don’t run from things!” I insisted.

“Oh, aye?” He laughed, “Then why are you in the closet?”

I mumbled, “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Mhmm,” came his usual reply.

“It is!” I insisted with more enthusiasm than I felt.

“If I close my eyes, will you open the door?”

“I don’t even know your middle name,” I whispered as my hand hovered over his, the tip of my finger tracing the curves of his palm. My lips stopped and started awkwardly as I put words to the doubts in my heart. “How do I know… how do I know that you’re not just marrying me s-so you can have a permanent caretaker for your children? What happens when they’re all grown an-and off to university? Will you… will you grow bored of me? Leave me for a younger, more exciting woman with her own title and fortune?”

I will never leave you, Claire. Ever,” Jamie’s hand closed around mine as he vowed. His pulse beat fast at his wrist and the muscles of his fingers twitched in desperation. “Please, open the door?”

I released him and stood, my hand resting hesitantly on the door knob.

“My dress is in here,” I stalled. “If I open the door, you’ll see it.”

The floorboards squeaked as he responded, “My eyes are closed, I canna see a thing.”

Pushing the door open a crack, I peeked out. He had his back to me, but also had his hands covering his eyes as an extra precaution. There would be no way of him seeing something I didn’t want him to. His thoughtfulness brought on another wave of tears as I slipped thru the door, gently closing it behind me.

“All clear?”

“Yes.”

Jamie let his hands fall before turning to face me. In one fluid motion, he’d closed the gap between us and gathered me into his arms. I buried my face in his chest, clinging to him as I tried to think clearly, to untangle my legitimate doubts from irrational fears.

“Hello,” he greeted me, his voice uncharacteristically husky.

My cheek brushed against his cotton undershirt as I inhaled deeply, letting the familiar, musky scent of him overtake me. We were silent for a time as we held each other close. I felt him relax, all the tension in his body melting away as his fingers found a stray curl that had slipped out of the braid I slept in. Concentrating on syncing my uneven breathing with his long, deep breaths, I was caught off guard when he suddenly spoke.

“James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.”

I tipped my head back and stared stupidly up at him, “Come again?”

A grin spread across his face as he lowered his lips to mine, taking his time with a kiss that warmed me to my very toes.

“You said you didna ken my middle name,” he explained.

“Oh,” I sighed, a smile of my own growing.

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, pleased to meet you.”


	8. Becoming One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire spend their wedding night together at Mrs Baird's Bed and Breakfast in Inverness.

June 16th; Mrs Baird’s Bed and Breakfast, Inverness, Scotland.

The door of our room clicked shut and I slowly turned to face Jamie.

Alone at last.

His eyes met mine, exuding an emotion that I couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t lust, not in the way I’d watched it parade across the faces of men and women alike, but it also wasn’t simply desire. There was something more to it; a gleam, a flame of passion that burned purer and brighter than any that had lit his eyes before.

It became deeper, stronger as he crossed the room to me and took my face in his hands, his voice barely audible.

“You are so beautiful, my own.”

The endearment of possession bolstered me, buoying me above my insecurities of what this first time together may bring. I was his and he was mine, forever. We had a lifetime to memorize each other’s bodies, to become as familiar with them as we were our own. It didn’t matter that I had only a vague knowledge of what men found pleasurable for, starting now, I need only know how to please one.

Jamie.

In slow, dexterous motions, he pulled the pins free from my hair, setting the coiffed ringlets free to flow down my back. Untucking the ends of his shirt from his kilt, I slid my hands beneath. He trembled, tipping my head back to kiss me as he held me close, pressing himself against me. We remained locked in each other’s embrace for many moments before resurfacing.

“Where,” he breathlessly asked as he smiled down at me in awe, “did you learn to kiss like that?”

I bit my lip, quipping, “I said I was virgin, not a nun.”

“Oh, aye?” His eyes sparkled with laughter as he kissed me again.

I felt him try to undo the line of tiny buttons down the back of my dress, his fingers failing to find their corresponding button holes. I lifted my arm, ready to unzip the hidden zipper myself, but he found it with an almost electric sense of excitement. The dress slowly loosened, gaping around my bust, but didn’t fall off. He paused, hesitating slightly as he held the bodice in place. I closed my hand around his and guided it thru the opening the zipper had created. His palm slid across the bare skin of my lower back, raising gooseflesh in its wake as it lifted, unhooking my bra in one smooth movement.

My fingers made quick work of the buttons of his shirt and he tugged it off. I pulled the hem of his cotton undershirt up over his head, the motion flopping my bodice over and my bra with it. We stood before each other, topless, our fingers nimbly and reverently exploring uncovered flesh. I brushed my lips along his collarbone as I moved against him. My hands slid around his ribs up the broad expanse of his bare back, coming to a sudden halt as they met something I hadn’t expected.

I stepped back, eyes full of concern as he tensed beneath my touch. His eyes were hooded, a wall suddenly having sprung up between us.

Please, let me in, my soul whispered to his.

Something flickered across his face, a thought too difficult to express out loud, and he slowly turned away, showing me the scars.

My heart fell to the floor as my fingers traced the overlapping lines of what could only have been a terribly brutal flogging. These permanent, tangible reminders of the violence done to him went far deeper than his skin, I knew. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my cheek against the raised markings, my hands against his heart. His strong, rapid pulse

He lifted them to his lips, murmuring, “Dinna fash, mo nighean donn, they dinna hurt.”

“When?” I whispered hoarsely, sliding my eyes shut against the vision of someone inflicting such a tortuous act upon him.

His shoulders rose and fell, as if trying to dismiss the magnitude of it.

“'Tis in the past.”

I turned him back around to face me, leveling him with a look that spoke much more than I could say. I opened my mouth only to shut it again, shaking my head as words failed me. One corner of Jamie’s mouth rose in an attempt at a smile as I failed miserably to vocalize the myriad of emotions pulsing through my veins.

I blurted, “You’re bloody amazing, you know that, right?”

He did smile then, one that reached all the way to his eyes before he kissed me.

“We both have things in our past that are difficult to discuss, aye?” He pulled away just enough to speak, “I only ask that when we do, let there be an honesty between us.”

I nodded, feeling unbelievably transparent.

He’d told me earlier this morning that he knew what mattered the most about me when I’d vocalized my fear of the unknown. I had found it rather ridiculous then, but now found it to be true.

I hadn’t the physical scars he had to show for it, but somehow he knew mine existed without my having to tell him. In this moment, it didn’t matter how I’d received them, only that I’d been marked by the past as well. The brokenness in him sought out the brokenness in me and the bond of love would help us put the pieces back together.

Bringing his head down to mine, I pulled us both out of our thoughts of the past and back into the present. I pushed the rest of the slouching dress over my hips, letting it crumple to the floor. Stepping out of the heap around my feet, I clung to Jamie as he ushered us to the sofa. He sat, beaming as I climbed onto his lap.

The wool of his kilt rubbed against the bare skin of my legs, the warm metal of his belt buckle imprinting itself into my navel. My hands slid between us, tugging the leather strap free, loosening the folds around his waist. I rose up on my knees as I pulled the fabric out from under me. Bringing my face close to his, I resumed my seat on his lap and felt him beneath me.

“So, that’s what Scots wear under their kilt.”

He grinned like a schoolboy before kissing me soundly. I shifted in his lap, seeking a position, some way that I could quench the sudden, overwhelming need to be as close to him as possible. Jamie moved with me, his hands anchoring me to him as I drifted about in unknown waters.

“I haven't…” I trailed off and swallowed hard, leaning back just enough to see his face, “I’ve never done this before.”

Jamie nodded in understanding, his eyes gentle, “Does it bother you that I have?”

“No,” I answered slowly as I realized that it truly didn’t. “I suppose one of us should know what they’re doing.”

He opened and shut his mouth like a gaping fish as he stared at me, his eyes widening in panic.

“You dinna ken?”

“No, I do!” I hurried to explain myself, mortified at how horribly this was going. “God, I’m a nurse, Jamie! I know where to put things, I just don't… Oh, Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, I don’t know how to make it… make it good for you, alright?”

“Dinna fash on that account, mo nighean donn,” Jamie chuckled as he brought his lips back to mine in a kiss that swallowed me whole, enveloping me in a burning sensation that threatened to overtake me. I nearly strangled him as he slowly stood, lifting and carrying me across the room, my arms tightening around his neck with a ferocity that I could no longer control.

The cool silk of the bedspread hit my bare skin and I balked, my body sliding out from under his before I fully realized what I was doing. I felt suddenly out of control, unexplainably disoriented as Jamie blinked at me an arm’s length away. He raked a hand through his hair, his voice strained. “I willna force myself upon you, Claire. You can tell me to stop at any time and I will, I promise.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” I shook my head, completely unsure of myself, but confident in this regard. Reaching out my hand, I whispered, “I want this, Jamie. I want you.”

He took it and I pulled him closer, moving backwards until I could lean against the pillows at the head of the bed. I lay back, his face inches from mine as I purred, “Show me how.”

Jamie didn’t speak as he guided my hands along the chiseled lines of his body. A low, almost imperceptible groan reverberated through him as I explored uncharted territory. His groan gathered momentum, turning into a growl as I closed my fingers around him. Not taking his eyes off me, he blindly reached for something on the nightstand. His hand knocked a good many things to the floor before he found what he was looking for.

Taking hold of it, he quickly opened the package and pressed the contents into my palm, a deep flush rising at the base of his neck. My cheeks flamed in kind as I looked down at the condom in my hand. My heart skipped a beat as my fingers drifted down the length of him, sheathing him as he came alive beneath my touch. He hovered above me, his eyes silently echoing the vow we had spoken aloud before God and man.

You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone.

He teased the inside of my thigh with his thumb and I rose up beneath him as he freed me of the final, laced barrier between us. His lips roamed my body, sending shivers of delight across my skin as he playfully nipped the skin between my breasts.

“Jamie?” I wheezed as his fingers coaxed me.

His breath tickled my neck, “Claire?”

“I… I can’t decide if–” I caught my breath as he settled himself over me, the weight of him pushing me deeper into the padded mattress, “I want you to tell you tell you to be gentle… or not to be.”

“Oh, aye?”

“Mhmm,” I intoned and grinned up at him, “but I suppose we have a lifetime to do both.”

His face melted, pooling into an expression of complete tenderness as he lifted my hands, giving me the reigns.

I give you my body…

I slowly pulled his hips lower, the pain and fullness of him overwhelming my senses as he entered me. My eyes slid shut as I gasped for breath and he stroked my cheek.

“Look at me, a chuisle,” he gently urged.

Doing so, I lost myself in the endless pools of light in his eyes, fathoms upon fathoms of sapphire radiance. He leaned forward, his lips kissing the tip of my nose as I breathlessly asked, “Are you… in?”

He brought my fingertips tips to caress the place of our joining.

…that we two should become one.

“There’s still more of you,” I whispered in awe.

I felt him laugh, a tremor of delight running through him and into me. Taking his lower lip between my teeth, I effectively silenced him as I guided him deeper, bringing him home.

I give you my spirit…

Jamie slowly moved within me and a noise escaped from my very core, begging him for more. He eagerly obliged and settled into a rhythm that left me digging my fingers into his back. The sensation echoed through me, each thrust of his hips pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy.

“Move with me,” he implored.

I came alive beneath him as time stood still. My head spun, my heart raced. I felt incredibly fragile, as though I were on the verge of shattering into a thousand shards of colored glass, yet simultaneously invincible. I could have stayed in this moment for eternity, my soul tethered to his.

‘Til our lives shall be done.


	9. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie share their pasts... in more ways than one.

June 16th, 2016; Mrs Baird’s Bed and Breakfast, Inverness, Scotland.

Coitus.

Jesus H Roosevelt Christ.

I turned my head on the pillow and found Jamie openly grinning at me. I smiled back, although mine was a bit sheepish, “I take it I didn’t muck it up entirely, then?”

His arms were around me in an instant, his gaze softening as he brought his face close to mine. He gently kissed the very tip of my nose before nuzzling my neck, his words tangling in my hair.

“Say that again,” I insisted of his Gaelic murmurings.

His breath tickled my skin as he repeated himself, then translated, “I love you, my brown haired lass.”

“A bit more eloquent than ‘oh God, Claire,” I teased and he laughed, the vibrations of his delight clearing away the final vestiges of my self doubt.

“Oh, aye, but both were from my heart.”

I moved my hand to his chest, pressing my palm against his sternum, splaying my fingers wide as I felt his steady pulse.

“You are blood of my blood,” Jamie echoed the vow we’d taken mere hours before, “the very life tha’ pulses through my veins.”

…

We sat in bed, hours later, slowly becoming more acquainted with each other… by touch, by sight, and by the baring of our souls.

Jamie’s fingers peeked in and out of my curls, standing them on end and sending floating strays across my face. I tucked them behind my ears as I squirmed with delight at his tickling sensation at the nape of my neck. A flicker of something akin to confusion passed over his face before he promptly untucked the curls, tracing their swirls against my skin as he insisted in a gentle tone, “I like the locks about your face, mo nighean donn.”

“Oh?”

I tried to tramp down the feeling of panic as it reared its ugly head, the heavy strands of hair on my cheeks pulling me into the shadows of the past.

“Aye,” he studied me carefully, his nose only a few inches from mine, “but you dinna?”

I shook my head and quickly brushed the curls away.

Jamie’s eyes grew moist as he carefully tucked every strand back behind my ears, his voice barely audible, a whispered hush from his heart. “I dinna ken who hurt you, mo chridhe… and I canna promise that I will never do so, for I ken I’ll make mistakes… but I give you my word, I will never force myself upon you… nor will I ever raise a hand to you in anger.”

The statement, his assurance that he’d honor my body with his, was so Jamie. He’d have been right at home with the dashing knights of old, with their similar codes of chivalry and ready stance to defend those who were unjustly in harm’s way.

“I know,” I murmured.

He nodded as he pulled me onto his lap. I melted into him, my head nestled safely under his chin as his arms gently slid around me. I felt as if I’d been scooped out of a tumultuous sea and deposited unceremoniously onto the deck of a ship. I’d been rescued, I could breathe again, but I still found myself shivering in a vulnerable heap, tangled in the debris of my struggle.

Jamie pulled the blanket up from beside him, enveloping us in a cocoon of safety and warmth.

“Tell me about your family,” he murmured.

I took a shaky breath and responded, “I haven’t any.”

His arms tightened about my waist when I didn’t elaborate, comfortable in the lengthening silence. His embrace filled me with the courage to speak, to tell him what I’d told no one, to let him into the closed off parts of my life that I refused to dwell on.

“There was an accident,” I began, my chin trembling with the effort it took to speak of the crash that had claimed the lives of both of my parents, as well as my uncle. “I was the only one to survive… I spent two months in the ICU at the Royal Hospital before they transferred me to L’Hopital. I’d fractured my pelvis and major internal injuries, so it was another six months before I moved into the L’Orphelinat wing.”

Jamie’s fingers followed the fading scars on my right hip, the jagged lines left behind from the multiple surgeries needed to rebuild the joint. They slid along my skin, leaving gooseflesh in their wake, as he found more. The thin, white curve that was tucked just below my sixth rib, the permanently discolored splotch to the left of my navel… and finally the long, winding path that traveled the length of my left thigh.

“I was a ward of the state… medicine and hospitals and clinics were all I knew, the only stability I had. Most of the other children had families and were there for rehabilitation before going home. A few were like me, without any other place to go… we grew up in the sterile halls and unoccupied exam rooms… playing at the procedures and protocols going on around us.”

I felt Jamie quiver, a deep, visceral reaction as he pressed his palm against the mark. “How old were you?”

How do you measure a childhood snatched away? A maturity and wisdom far beyond my years earned at the expense of my naïvete?

“I was five,” I whispered.

“I didna ken,” his voice cracked with emotion, “I thought you only worked at L’Hopital des Anges… maybe trained there, with you being so close to the sisters.”

“No, I trained at the army headquarters in Edinburgh.”

His brows rose in surprise, “You were a’ Craigiehall? When?”

I shifted, welcoming the topic deviation as I tucked the edge of the blanket more securely under Jamie’s leg, blocking a draft.

“August — no, September of 2009 to July of 2010.”

Surprise registered on his face as a lopsided grin emerged.

“What is it?” I asked with a smile.

“I was there too, tha’ spring.”

I stared at him, open mouthed, “You were?”

“Oh, aye, I deployed from there to Camp Bastion the first week of June.”

“How long were you stationed there?”

Could we have really been in the same place at the same time — twice — and not met each other?

“I wasna at the base itself verra long,” his gaze became unfocused, remembering the details of how and when, “a few months a’ first, then out and back again. They medevaced me to Gütersloh in December.”

I nodded, envisioning the scars on his back. It was the sort of injury that might’ve warranted a transfer back home, but a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach told me there was another, hidden wound that had earned him the fastest ride out of Helmand Province.

“You were a nurse there.” His words were not a question but a statement, an unmistakable measure of pride in his voice.

“For four years.” I swallowed hard. I didn’t wish to speak of my time in Afghanistan. It was in the past, a door closed. I grappled for a new topic, hoping he’d go back to the subject of Edinburgh or even my childhood, I added hastily, “I didn’t work at L’Hopital until after I got back.”

“Did you work with any of the American doctors?”

“A few.” I sighed at his dogged pursuance. My encounters with any of the foreign medical staff had been limited, and rather unmemorable at best.

Jamie, taking no notice of my reticence, continued, “A Sergeant Grey took the time to keep track of me, medically, after I left Bastion. We’ve stayed in contact ever since.”

“That was kind of him.”

The sentiment was genuine, but my heart wasn’t in it. I felt myself begin to shut down, to rebuild the wall around the area of my soul that had been wounded at Camp Bastion, a barricade that I’d worked so hard to demolish. Jamie fell quiet and I didn’t make a move to break the silence. I didn’t know how to tell him of the horrors I had seen, of the ones inflicted upon me against my will.

“The one who hurt you… he was at Bastion?”

I found him gazing down at me, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yes.”

He studied me closely as he contemplated his next words; his lips parted in heartbreak, only to be pressed together again in thinly veiled fury.

“You are not alone, mo nighean donn,” his eyes were soft and sure, his voice steady. “There’s the two of us now.”

Jamie tipped his head forward, his nose gently nudging mine in that same, reassuring way I did with the children. He kissed the very tip of my nose, then my brow, before pressing his forehead against mine. I slid my eyes shut as my heartbeat slowed and settled back into a stable rhythm.

“Do you know of a Captain Jack Randall?” I murmured.

He tensed and pulled his face away. I opened my eyes again to find he’d gone completely pale.

“Aye,” he answered slowly. “I do.”

I looked away, unsure of what I should say, now that I’d begun, as Jamie’s hands fell to my waist. They trembled slightly, his fingers suddenly cold against my bare skin.

“Claire, look at me,” the breath left his lungs in a sickening wheeze. “Mo chridhe, please.”

I couldn’t.

Paralyzed, I heard the whispered rasp of the nurse’s voice again as she told me the evidence she’d collected would be of no use, that Randall had friends in the lab who would ensure it would be inadmissible in court, that she knew of at least two other victims he’d attacked, leaving one critically injured. I felt the cold exam table beneath me, instead of the warm embrace of my husband. I saw Randall’s smirk as he left the trial, his protector and commanding officer preceding him out the door, walking free and clear of my accusations.

Jamie’s palm cupped my cheek as the tears began to flow. They weren’t of shame, but of futility. I’d fought to have my case reopened, finding more of Randall’s victims in order to secure a conviction, but, one by one, the women — and men — had vanished. They were silenced or had their orders changed by Randall’s commanding officer, Sandringham.

“If he did to you… what he did… to me,” Jamie spoke with enormous effort, the words all but choking him, “then our souls… they bear the same mark, Claire.”

A convulsive shiver ran down my spine as a great, choking sob escaped my lips. Jamie pulled me against his chest and I wrapped my arms about his neck, trying not to strangle him as this new understanding began to grow. Our scars were different, and, yet, they were the same, both having been inflicted by the sadistic wrath of Jonathan Wolverton Randall. We held each other close, our tears mingling as we tried to digest this new reality, as we were somehow able to allow this to bring us closer together, instead of tearing us apart.

….

I popped a grape in my mouth and chewed slowly, thoroughly enjoying the view as I watched Jamie from across the room.

He was on full display, bent over his suitcase as he rummaged around for something. His head turned and he caught sight of me over his shoulder. A playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his eyes twinkling in the low light of the room. He went back to his search and there was a part of me that sincerely hoped it would take some time for him to find whatever it was he was looking for.

God, he was beautiful.

“Hungry, mo nighean donn?”

Jamie didn’t look at me again, but I could see his smile begin spread across his face, nonetheless.

I imitated his burr, drawing out the word, “Ravenous.”

He laughed as he straightened and reached his hands high over his head, his muscles rippling as he stretched. With the object concealed in his left hand, Jamie sauntered over to the sofa and crawled onto it beside me. The cushions shifted and I slid into him, gladly, his arm slipping behind me.

I tried to peek at what he was holding, but he caught me, moving it out of my line of sight as he took another grape from the platter and offered it to me. Leaning forward, I took it in my teeth and caught a glimpse of a small, blue velvet box poking out from behind him.

Jamie feigned affront as he tried not to show his obvious enjoyment of my curiosity, “You’re as bad as the children!”

“Oh, I’m much worse,” I laughed, juice dribbling out of my mouth before I could stem it. “They tried to hide my birthday present in a biscuit tin on the top shelf of the pantry so I wouldn’t find it, except I love the biscuits that come in that tin and knew they’re never put up there… Jenny caught me trying to sneak a peek.”

He howled with delight over the mental image of Jenny, trickster and head of all mischief made in the Fraser household, finding me, a fully grown adult, trying to see my gift before it was time.

I grinned cheekily at this and lifted my hand to wipe away the sticky liquid from my chin, it’s tickling sensation beginning to distract me from my husband and his hidden surprise.

Jamie leaned in suddenly, his lips lowering deftly to nab the drip and catching me completely off guard. His mouth began to roam as he nibbled at the line of my jaw and all conscious thought left me as his lips drifted to my neck, then along the ridge of my collarbone.

“Your skin tastes so sweet,” he murmured intently, one finger tracing the blue veins in the hollow at the base of my neck, following it across my shoulder and down my arm. “Tis almost translucent…”

He lifted my wrist to his lips, kissing the soft skin protecting the web of veins and arteries that lay just below. His thumb began to rub smooth circles on the back of my hand, making me dizzier with each loop. Jamie’s gaze found mine and he smiled as I brought my head close. My lips hovered above his, intoxicated with the closeness of him and rendered immobile by his amorous expression. The smell of him, the warm musk that drew me nearer as I slowly inhaled, sent a shivering thrill down my spine.

“Ready for your gift?”

The heady fog surrounding my neural processors left me thinking that this, in and of itself, was gift enough… if he’d just stay put and let me kiss him.

Jamie’s tongue flicked out and deftly ran along the edge of my lower lip. I crawled into his lap as he tried to bring his head away from mine, his hands reaching behind him. I pulled at his arms, insistent, as I grumbled, “Forget the gift and kiss me, you bloody Scot.”

He laughed outright and did as told, his strong hands caressing my hips as I lost myself in his kiss. My soul entwined more completely with his with every moment, every second that we held each other close. I didn’t even notice the hard, rectangular box biting into my ribs until Jamie extracted it from between us.

“Oh,” I sighed, leaning my head against his shoulder as I reverently fingered the rich velvet of the lid. “That gift.”

“Aye, that one,” he grinned and placed it in my hand.

I looked from him to the box and back again, unsure of what to say. He’d already given me a wedding present, his mother’s pearls, but the box clearly held something of great value, boasting a jewelers emblem on the side that I recognized as one of Edinburgh’s finest.

“Jamie… I don’t have—“

He placed a finger on my lips, stemming my words with his own. “You are my gift. I want nothing more than to have you by my side for the rest of my days.”

Lifting the lid, he took out the contents and offered it to me on his palm. It was a beautiful heart shaped locket, hung on a simple gold chain. The pendant was engraved with swirling, Scottish thistles and each bloom was set with a gemstone. I felt my soul smile as I realized there were nine of them: an opal for me, an emerald for him, and each of the children had their own, smaller birthstone as well. With a deft flick, Jamie opened it to reveal the Fraser family crest on one side and their motto on the other.

Je suis prest.

I looked up at him and found fathomless, blue depths of unending adoration radiating from his very core.

“I am ready,” I translated in a hush.

I closed the locket again and reverently traced the engraving with my finger, stumbling upon three thistles without stones. My heart sank as I realized we’d never discussed the possibility of our having children together… or, rather, the impossibility.

“Just what exactly are you ready for?” I asked as my throat began to constrict, a tight band of apprehension squeezed the breath from my lungs.

Jamie lifted his hands to my face, his face melting into an expression of pure contentment, “I’m ready to wake up beside you every morning, to kiss you goodnight and hold you in my arms until dawn. I’m ready to live out my days with you and our children at my side, mo chridhe.”

Our children.

I couldn’t breathe as I pushed away from Jamie, sliding off his lap into a crumpled heap on the floor. He followed me down and gathered me into his arms again without a sound, cradling me against his chest.

“I can’t,” was all I could say as I shook my head in defeat, the tears pouring down my cheeks.

My cycles had evened out as I exited my teens, settling into a regular rhythm that lulled me into thinking that the medical team at L’Hopital were wrong… that the injury to my pelvis in my youth wouldn’t affect my ability to conceive as an adult. I’d sought out a gynecologist when I was in Glasgow last year for a conference, wanting the anonymity of a different city for my second opinion, but she echoed the same words that haunted my every dream of the future.

“I didna marry you for the bairns you might bear me…” Jamie crooned, “nor did I marry you so that my children would have a mother again… I married you for you, Claire.”

He gently kissed my neck, his nose nuzzling the tender skin just behind my ear.

“I married you for tha’ look you get when Marsali’s said something the way she does and you canna laugh… for ‘twould only encourage her,” he pulled me closer against his chest, setting me more comfortably on his lap. “I married you for that wee furrow you get ‘tween your brows when you have something on your mind… and the way you bite your lip when you want me to kiss you, but the bairns are near and you feel unsure.”

My face flamed at the reality of my being so transparent, the corners of my lips tugging upwards, “I do not!”

“Aye, you do,” he grinned. “Your face is an open book.”

I took the tissue that magically appeared in Jamie’s hand and wiped my nose unceremoniously.

“What I meant, my own, is that they are our children now… as much yours as they are mine,” he explained. “You’ve been a mother to them… more of a mother than I’ve been a father… since the very day you walked into our lives.”

His fingers gently wiped away my tears, kissing my cheeks.

“You are what I want, mo nighean donn… I’ve children enough, but only one Claire.”


	10. A Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire faces her attacker... in her dreams and in her new home.

Just After Midnight, June 17th, 2016;  
Mrs Baird’s Bed and Breakfast, Inverness, Scotland.  
Jamie.

I felt the mattress shift beneath me as Claire left the bed. I expected to hear her footsteps change as they hit the tile of the adjoining bathroom, but instead they continued to shuffle about the carpet and over to my side of the bed. Raising my head, I watched her stoop to pick up one of her shoes and scowled at it intensely before she continued to search the floor for its mate. She retraced her steps and began to pace at the foot of the bed, her scowl turning into an expression I couldn’t quite name.

“Claire?”

She didn’t respond, but turned to the small bureau and opened the top drawer. Finding it empty, she moved onto the second and then third, tugging the fourth out with such a determination that I had to ask, “What are you looking for?”

“Where are my clothes?” Her voice was strained, her discomfort palpable.

I got out of bed and went to stand by her, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.

“They’re in your bag,” I nodded towards the open suitcase near her feet. We hadn’t bothered to put away our clothing as we’d only be here overnight. My concern began to grow as I noticed she was trembling. “Come back to bed, mo chridhe.”

She shook her head, panic spreading across her face as she repeated, “Where are my clothes?”

I placed a reassuring hand on her elbow as I opened my mouth to answer her, but she recoiled from my touch and sprinted across the room.

“You son of a bitch!” She shrieked, “Where did you put my clothes?”

I stared after her slack jawed as I tried to think of what on earth I’d done to warrant such a reaction. She turned the shoe around in her hand until the sharp, raised heel was pointed threateningly in my direction and shook it wildly at me. The notion that she may be asleep on her feet was beginning to dawn on me as I sank down onto the edge of the bed. Raking a hand through my hair, I tried to stay calm.

“Claire, they’re right there.”

A scream of frustration burst from her lips as the shoe left her hand, flipping end over end as it flew through the air. It landed on the bed a good three feet to my left, but I flinched, just the same.

“You think this is funny?!” she bellowed.

No, I decidedly didn’t.

Now that I was positive she was talking — and more — in her sleep, I was left with the daunting task of waking my wife before she roused the entire bed and breakfast.

“Please, lass,” I began, rising again and inching towards her, now that she was unarmed, “come back to bed.”

All of the color drained from her face as she spun on her heel and fled into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. I followed, desperately hoping the antique knob didn’t have a lock. I tried it after a few moments of silence and found that it hadn’t. Ever so slowly, I inched the door open.

“If you so much as take another step, you sadistic bastard,” Claire’s words were low, uttered in something of a growl, “I swear I will kill you.”

I closed the door again and sagged into it, the weight of just the sort of dream she was having falling heavily onto my chest. I had them often enough to know the prison she was trapped in, the replayed scenario of our darkest moment, heightened into greater horror by our subconscious. A nurse has woken me from the first of many such dreams in the infirmary and the memory of her actions propelled me forward, palms growing clammy as I sent a plea for guidance heavenwards.

Opening the door once more, I was met without resistance. Silence echoed about the room and reverberated down my spine. I flipped on the light, trying anything that would pull her from her nightmare. The bathroom was larger than most and boasted a full tub with a built in shower, it’s curtain mussed from its original perfection. Claire was trying her best to not make a sound, and she was doing an admirable job of it, but I knew where she was.

“Claire,” I lifted my tone, trying to differentiate my words from those uttered in her nightmare. “You’re safe, mo nighean donn. He isna here.”

Ever so slowly, I drew back the curtain and found my wife crouched in the far end of the tub. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest, her hair sticking to the moisture on her ashen cheeks, her gaze fixated on the wall. I stepped into the tub and knelt before her, but made no move to touch her, recalling how she’d reacted when I tried that earlier.

“Mo chridhe, ‘tis me,” I murmured. Claire tilted her head at the sound of my voice and I dared to hope it would pull her from her reverie, “I’m here, you’re safe.”

She blinked and what color she had left drained away as she asked, “What have you done to my husband?”

I gathered her into my arms and reached over to turn on the water. I needed her to wake, fully and immediately. She tried to jerk away as the cold water hit her skin, but I held fast, keeping her directly under the spray. I felt her begin to wilt, the fight in her gone. She leaned into me, pressing her cheek to my chest as she sobbed, her body convulsing with uncontrollable sobs.

“You’re safe,” I assured her, again and again. “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

“Tuh-urn off the wah-water,” she hiccuped.

Quickly obliging, I shut off the spray and reached around the curtain for a towel, grabbing the first thing that touched my fingertips. It was a washcloth, barely four inches square. I pressed it into her hand and stuck my head out of the shower. There, on the other side of the room, lay a stack of perfectly folded bath towels.

I drew back the curtain and guided Claire over the side of the tub, onto the terry cloth mat. Keeping one hand on my wife, I leaned over and snagged the top one, wrapping it around her shoulders before I lifted her into my arms. She clung to me, wet and trembling, her teeth chattering.

“My clothes…” she murmured.

Nodding, I carried her out of the bathroom and set her gently on the edge of the bed, sprinting over to her bag. Unzipping it, I found the outfit she’d packed for tomorrow and a lacy thing I was sure she’d intended to wear to bed. I didn’t think either would give her the secure feeling she was seeking, so I quickly turned to my own overnight bag and dug out the extra set of boxers I always packed and my spare undershirt. They’d be too big, I knew, but hopefully they’d do the trick.

Claire wordlessly let me dress her and towel dry her hair before she lay back down, burrowing under the blankets like a hibernating hedgehog. I attempted to dry off with the already damp towel, then crawled in beside her. She didn’t acknowledge my presence, her breathing shallow and labored.

“Sorcha?” She didn’t open her eyes, but reached out one hand. I immediately took it between both of mine, needing this physical link to her. The lines on her brow faded away as I massaged smooth circles into her palm and I asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” came her definitive reply, her voice even and strong, vehement almost.

I lay in hesitant silence for a few moments before I tried again, “May I hold you?”

Her other hand shot out from beneath the covers and latched onto my upper arm, tugging me closer with a strength that surprised me. It shouldn’t have, for it took great courage indeed to face our inner demons, to stand toe to toe with them on the battlefield of our dreams.

I slid closer, pulling her to me and pressing her head against my chest. My heart beat wildly as my mind pictured the trauma she’d experienced at the hand of the man who’d done the same to me. I felt her arms encircle me, clinging to me as she trembled like an autumn leaf in a gale force wind.

“I’ve got you,” I crooned, brushing the still damp hair from her face. “You’re safe, I promise. You’ve the protection my name, mo nighean donn, of my clan… and that of my body, should it ever come to that.”

…

Claire.

The arching gate of the entrance to Lallybroch rose up from the road ahead of us, a familiar sight that set the butterflies a flutter in my stomach once again. I’d only just gotten them settled after our rather notable departure from Mrs Baird’s bed and breakfast and the sensation of light headed euphoria mixed with a warm heat of desire was quickly becoming familiar, however distracting.

Mrs Baird, the matronly old woman who ran the establishment, had given Jamie and I quite the look as we’d come down for breakfast, giving me a clear idea as to what she thought of what she’d heard the night before. She clearly approved, her countenance almost prideful as she made sure we had extra servings of her traditional Scottish breakfast fare. Jamie nearly choked on his spoonful of parritch when she’d patted him on the shoulder and murmured “well done, lad” under her breath as she walked past.

My cheeks warmed as Jamie squeezed my hand and leaned over, kissing my temple as he whispered, “Welcome home.”

Home.

Lallybroch had been home for many months before our marriage, but now it was truly mine.

My home.

I’d never really had one, that I could remember, and the title made me ridiculously prideful as I sat beaming in the backseat of the town car. I rolled down the window, letting the breeze tease the curls around my face. The air was sweet and fresh, a lovely change from the smells of the city.

The car slowed as Alec waited for the gate to open and I turned to Jamie just in time to see the change come over his face. In an instant, he was the man I’d met upon my arrival at Lallybroch once more, the light gone from his eyes.

“Jamie?” I gripped his hand tightly.

He gestured to something out the window with a nod of his head. I caught the swirl of a flag out the corner of my eye, it’s bright red and blue out of place against the stonework of Lallybroch’s grand front entrance. A uniformed soldier stepped out of the door and stood at attention as the car came to a stop.

Jamie didn’t wait for the door to be opened for him, choosing instead to exit the car at the first moment it was safe to do so. He pulled me up beside him and placed a stiff arm about my waist. Looking the lieutenant up and down, he turned his attention to the butler with an icy stare.

“Am I to presume that I have a guest, Germaine?” His voice was foreign, a mere echo of the sound I knew so well.

“Yes, m’Lord. Captain Randall arrived late last night.”

Jamie’s arm dropped from around me and he surged forward, his face turning a mottled sort of red, “You allowed Captain Jonathan Wolverton Randall entrance to my home, given him lodging, and you did not notify me?”

“Yes, m’Lord,” the butler rose to his full height, which was still a good five inches shorter than his master’s, and answered with a confident sort of air that made me want to throttle him right then and there. “As you were due to return this afternoon, and the captain provided me with adequate documents pertaining to his orders from Colonel Sandringham, I did not see it was necessary.”

The muscles of Jamie’s jaw tightened and a deep flush began to creep up from beneath his collar.

“We will discuss — in great detail — what I see as necessary regarding your place here at Lallybroch in private,” Jamie seethed, turning on his heel to bound up the front steps before adding under his breath, “after I see to the snake in my study.”

I matched him stride for stride and I prayed the children were tucked away somewhere in one of the gardens they so loved, out of the reach of the beast responsible for the scars on Jamie’s back and assaulting me in a field hospital. The study door swung open just before we reached it and gave entrance to none other than Black Jack Randall, Captain of His Majesty’s Eighth Dragoon’s.

A sneering smile tugged at one corner of his mouth after the shock of seeing me at Jamie’s side subsided, “Your staff informed me of your recent nuptials, Jamie, but they failed to mention that you’d bedded none other than Chuckie herself.”

“You will not address my wife in such a manner,” Jamie growled.

“Didn’t she tell you?” Randall feigned affront, “We’re well acquainted with each other.”

Bile rose at the back of my throat as I felt the memory of his hands on my body, smelled the dust of the supply closet, its walls starting to close in around me. I hid one trembling hand in the folds of my skirt as I reached for my husband with the other, “Jamie and I haven’t any secrets. State your business and leave.”

“Come now,” he purred, “You haven’t introduced me to the children yet.”

Randall turned and sauntered back into the study, knowing full well that we could do nothing but follow, speaking over his shoulder as he moved to stand before the intricately carved mantelpiece and the large family portrait above it.

“Your eldest son — William is it? — has the makings of a fine officer like his father. His younger brother, however, has inherited your penchant for stubborn willfulness, I’ve observed. And your daughters’ beauty comes to no surprise, Jamie, but their resemblance to you is quite striking.”

All of this was delivered in such a nonchalant manner that it would have sounded like normal conversation to anyone else, but I heard it as the threat that it was. Randall has used Jamie’s family as pressuring points before and now taunted him with the proximity of his children.

“You will leave my home at once.”

Jamie’s voice was something more than a growl, yet not loud enough to be considered a roar. The deep resonance of it rose gooseflesh on my arm and a chill down my spine. His grip on my hand tightened as the tension in the room mounted.

Randall turned and took something from his pocket, handing it to Jamie as he rose a brow, “Your orders from the Colonel, Captain.”

He had no intention of going anywhere, he was in control of the situation and he knew it. Randall leaned against the nearby desk and folded his arms, a knowing smirk pulling at his lips, the glint of prideful power in his eyes.

“I believe you’ll find everything to be quite self explanatory,” he commented as Jamie shoved the missive into my hand and rounded on him.

I glanced down quickly and read:  
Captain James Fraser is hereby ordered to report to His Majesty’s Royal Army Headquarters in Edinburgh to give a full listing of any and all known Jacobites in the clans of Fraser and MacKenzie by the eighteenth of June, the year of our Lord two thousand and sixteen.


	11. Not While I'm Around

June 17th, 2016  
Lallybroch.  
Claire

“What did you do?”

“Where did you eat?”

“Did you miss us terribly?!”

A chorus of excited questions swirled around Jamie and I the moment we stepped onto the terrace, forcing me to set aside the worries over my husband’s military orders for a moment or two. Maggie and Joan nearly tackled me in their attempt to welcome me at the same time and a laugh burst from my lips, much to my own surprise.

Maybe there would be a way to stay together.

“Mama Claire! Mama Claire!” Maggie tugged at my arm and I swept her up into my arms, my heart singing. She rested her head on my shoulder with a contented sigh, commenting, “I like calling you mama.”

“And I like hearing it,” I murmured past a lump in my throat, smiling down at her and the joyous faces of my children. It was official now and they were finally mine. They all pressed against each other and leaned into me, all trying to occupy the same space. Swallowing hard, I inquired, “What have you been up to while we were gone?”

Little Joan answered, beaming up at me as she held onto a fistful of my skirt, “We’ve been practicing!”

“Have you?” My brows rose in surprise, “What have you been practicing, love?”

“Our songs for the concert!”

“The what?” Jamie’s voice now added to the clamor. It was just at this moment that Ian entered the terrace, his approach masked by the children’s uproar, and Jamie turned to his closest friend and brother-in-law with a wry sort of grimace. “I suppose this is your doing.”

Ian grinned, placing a hand on my elbow in welcome, “On the contrary! Mother Hildegard had recruited them long before I had a chance to. Why didn’t you tell me they had such lovely voices, Jamie? That song they sang at the wedding was absolutely angelic.”

“Mother Hildegard?” Jamie’s gaze now turned to me.

In the busyness of planning the wedding, I’d completely forgotten about L’Hopital’s annual benefit, which was always the eighteenth of June.

“But that’s tomorrow!” I exclaimed, my stomach clenching.

“Delightful timing, isn’t it?” Ian’s eyes took on an impish gleam as he winked at me. “They’ve everything they need and they already know the songs. Just think of it! They’ll be the grand finale! Seven children in one family… and now they’re the heart’s delight of one of L’Orphelinat very own! A happy ending, if there ever was one.”

“No,” Jamie shook his head, his voice firm, prompting an uprising of dismay from the children. “They willna be singing tomorrow.”

“Oh, but we’ve been practicing all day, Father!” Marsali wailed.

He silenced her with a look, then, gesturing towards the house with a jerk of his head, asked of Ian, “A word with ye, aye?”

Ian registered my drawn features for the first time and nodded solemnly, following Jamie back the way we’d come. Ellen picked up on the growing tension and met my gaze, her eyebrows furrowing in a silent question she’d been raised not to ask aloud.

What’s going on?

I gave her a weak smile in answer and she nudged Brian who, always hungry, suggested we find a snack.

“It’s nearly time for dinner, sweet,” I reminded him. “But that’s not a half bad idea. Why don’t you all get cleaned up and then maybe you can show me what you’ve been working on.”

They all readily agreed to this and we set off together towards the house.

…

I found the men in the library, sharing a healthy dram of whiskey as they hatched a plan… one I refused to enact.

“No,” I stated defiantly as they tried to convince me of its merits. “We are not remaining behind.”

“I have to go,” Jamie wearily tried to explain, his hand reaching out pleadingly for mine.

I took it instantly to stem any further justification for splitting up the family, as well as out of an urgent need to touch him, to be near him.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t go with you.”

He shook his head. “That would only place you and the children in danger. It’s me he wants.”

“I very much doubt that,” my throat constricted as I thought of the man who had stood before me not an hour before. “He won’t stop until he has the both of us back under his control and you know it.”

I felt Jamie flinch, his visceral reaction a jolt of fear running from his body into mine. He must have caught the tone of near panic in my voice, for pulled me closer and onto his lap.

“Aye, I ken it well,” he murmured into my neck as I held onto him tightly, “but you are safest here at home.”

“You are my home.”

I slid my eyes shut as he leaned back into the deep, leather chair with a heavy sigh, taking me with him.

“Sorcha…”

“Don’t ask me to forsake my vow to you, James Fraser,” I pleaded, pressing hips against him, my hand over his heart. His pulse was erratic as mine was, but we both slowed into sync as I murmured, “Where you go, I will go and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die and there I will be buried…”

I won’t let even death separate you from me.

“Be it so,” Jamie finished when I could not, his voice low with a sincerity and earnestness that came from deep within his heart, “or may the Lord punish me greatly.”

He kissed me then, taking the very breath from my lungs. I didn’t know what it would mean, or where we would go, but it would be together… or not at all.

A delicate cough came from the room’s only other occupant and yanked us from our reverie.

“If we can get you to France,” Ian interrupted, a wide grin on his face with a hint of moisture in his eyes, “I think we might be able to pull it off.”

…

Dinner was a tense and solemn affair, even with Ian present. The children all knew something was afoot and it made them revert to all of the habits I’d worked so hard to break them of. Brian egged Marsali on to the point of armageddon, which set Ellen on their case and made her snap at Maggie for spilling her milk, which in turn ruffled Willie’s feathers and promptly sent Joan into a fit of nervous tears.

Seeing that they were all to the point of near hysterics, I suggested, “I think it might be time for me to take the children upstairs, Jamie.”

He looked up absently from his food and nodded, silently dismissing us all from the table before returning to his meal. How he had any appetite at all was beyond me. I gladly left my plate behind in favor of the sanctuary of the children’s rooms. We all filed out and made our way to the stairs as quickly as possible, none of us wanting to linger in the room where stiff formalities and unspoken dangers hovered near.

Teeth were brushed and faces washed in the usual efficiency, but once in their pajamas, all sense of normalcy evaporated. Maggie took hold of my hand as I tried to leave their room to check on the boys, digging in her heels and forcing me to stop dead in my tracks.

“I don’t want you to go!”

I looked down at her in concern, “I’m not going anywhere, love. Just stepping across the hall for a moment. I’ll come right back to read you a story.”

“No!” she dissolved into tears on the spot.

Alarmed, I caught sight of Marsali standing in the doorway, looking very much like she was ready to go to war with the entire world. Her hair free of its usual bonds and her arms crossed firmly, she was a force to be reckoned with.

“What’s going on?” I swallowed hard as I picked up the wailing four year old and asked of her sister, “What’s wrong?”

My fears raced ahead of me, imagining the worst had happened while Jamie and I were way… and Randall was here.

“Father got his orders, didn’t he?” Marsali jaw clenched as she tipped it up in defiance.

My heart sank as I remembered that this had happened to them several times before. Jamie would receive word and be gone for months at a time, returning without warning and often in a mood that the children dreaded. He’d be dissatisfied with anything and everything they did and the smallest things could send him into a funk that would last days on end.

I nodded and Joan joined Maggie in her tears. I hadn’t a clue as to what to say. Jamie and I hadn’t discussed how much of our plan we’d tell the children and I could never lie to them.

The truth in its simplest form would be my assurance.

Sinking to my knees and reaching out to her, Joanie ran to me. Marsali was slow to follow, but follow she did, and I soon had all three of them in my embrace. Knowing without looking that Ellen, Jenny, Willie, and Brian had taken their place in the doorway. I spoke softly, but confidently.

“We will stay together.”

…

Jamie met me in the hallway. His eyes came alive as I padded softly out of Joan and Maggie’s room.

“Asleep?”

“Mmm,” one corner of my mouth lifted in a tired smile, “only just.”

He stepped forward and swept me up off of my feet, into his arms. It took me by surprise but I didn’t object, choosing instead to bury my face in his neck and melt into him. The bergamot and amber of his cologne mingled with a deeper, richer scent that I could only describe as his and I sighed as the balm of his nearness permeated into the core of my very soul.

We moved silently down the hallway and my pulse quickened as I realized we were headed to the master bedroom. My head knew that I would not be returning to my own room, which was on the other end of the wing, and that my belongings were now arranged with his, but my heart hadn’t quite fully realized just what exactly what this would all mean.

Our room.

Jamie paused and shifted me slightly as he turned the knob and nudged the door open. This accomplished, he looked down at me.

“Come to bed with me?” he murmured, a low hush that matched the desire in his eyes.

My lips hovered above his, my breath catching as warmth began to spread across my cheeks.

“To bed… or to sleep?”

A low chuckle rumbled through him and I had my answer. He eased us into the room, turning so I could shut the door with my feet. The click of the latch sent a thrill through me and I felt it’s echo in Jamie, a magnetic sensation that drew his lips to mine. We met with an electrical shock that ignited something within me that I hadn’t experienced the night before.

I had wanted him then, but I needed him now.

I opened my mouth to his and pulled him closer, my fingers grasping at the nape of his neck. This primal, overwhelming hunger for him was as exhilarating as it was foreign, a sensation unknown and one I eagerly submitted to. Jamie turned me in his arms and the floodgates opened as I felt the bed materialize beneath me. My back arched, my hips searching for his as I tugged at the hem of my dress, easing it from between us. His trousers now shed, Jamie climbed onto the the bed with a low groan and ushered me into the center of the enormous mattress. He kissed my neck, a quiver of delight running through him as he realized I wasn’t wearing anything to hinder him beneath the crumpled folds of my cotton sundress.

“Why, Mrs Fraser,” he purred, “I believe you’ve forgotten something.”

I sighed as he settled his weight onto his elbows, “On the contrary, it was intentional.”

He lifted his head, his eyes bright with laughter as he moved to brush a stray curl out of my eyes, but suddenly froze. His brow furrowed as he slowly reached out his hand to pluck something out from between the pillows. He instantly dropped it onto the bed like a hot coal and yanked me away from it, nearly dislocating my shoulder in the process. I cried out in pain and frustration, confused as to why he’d do such a thing, but then I saw — and smelled — what he had.

It was a lace sachet of lavender.

My stomach rolled and my head spun at the fragrance as I scrambled right over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Jamie was at my side in an instant, but it wasn’t him that I felt when he placed a hand on my arm. I jerked free, digging my heels into the plush carpet as I recoiled, moving a full body’s length away from him before I even realized what I was doing. I shook my head, trying to find my real surroundings amid the mirage around me. I kept moving, sliding my back along the solid framework of the wall until Jamie stopped me.

His bulk kept me from smashing into a large, wooden trunk, but his touch didn’t linger as he demanded, “Tell me what you see, Sorcha.”

My heart beat wildly in my chest and I could hardly breathe, let alone speak. I shook my head desperately, but he insisted.

Tell me what you can see.

I saw my quarters on base.

I saw the supply closet shelves.

I saw the stark, white walls of the exam room.

I saw nothing at all.

“No,” I choked out.

Jamie moved closer, his warm, solid presence bumping against my legs as I hugged them tightly to my chest. His chin settled on my knees, his nose barely an inch from mine. I blinked once, twice, and tried to focus on the face before me instead of the one ingrained in my memory.

“What do you see, a nighean?”

I swallowed hard, hiccuping, “You.”

“Good,” he crooned. “What do you feel?”

My hands and feet were numb as I sat there, gasping for air. I moved them slowly and tried to regain some semblance of tactile function, but had very little success. Jamie took hold of my hands, bringing them to his lips, clasping them against his heart.

“What can you feel?”

His heart beat beneath my palm, it’s rhythm quick but sure. Each pulse came at steady intervals and tugged at mine to do the same, guiding me out of my abject terror and into a hazy fog of disorientation.

“You,” I gulped, tramping down the urge to pull away and tried to mimic his patterns of inhaling and exhaling. I let out a shuddering sigh as he pulled me into his arms, cradling me gently against his chest.

“What do you smell?” came his next question and I was calm enough now to know what he was doing.

He was grounding me.

I’d witnessed the technique in triage, but never thought to use it myself. With each sense, he was pulling me away from the chaos inside my head and securing me to something that was not connected to my demons. He became my anchor, the point to fixate on as I fought to regain control of my body.

“That bloody lavender.”

He flinched and I knew it’d had a similar effect on him, though he’d managed to keep his wits about him.

“Tis gone,” he assured me hastily, his thumb gently stroking my cheek, “I threw it out the window.”

Good.

“He was here,” I murmured rather unnecessarily. “In our home — in our room, Jamie — and he’ll be back tomorrow to make sure you report, I know it.”

His arms tightened around me, “Aye, mo chridhe.”

“Do you think the plan will work?”

“It must,” he vowed, “for I willna let him have his way.”

Pressing my cheek against his chest, I tried to find Jamie’s usual warmth. His body temperature was always higher than mine it seemed, but we were both chilled to the point of trembling just now, our hearts cold at the prospect of facing our attacker once again.

“You’re shivering,” Jamie mumbled into my neck, his lips cold against my skin.

“You aren’t much warmer.”

He managed a smile as he brought the both of us to our feet, leading me around the bed and through an enormous closet. His head turned to scan the clothing as we passed and he paused only a moment to whisk two plush robes from their place. An open doorway brought us into the biggest bathroom I’d ever seen. It boasted a full sized tub, next to which he deposited the robes. To call it a bathtub really wasn’t doing it justice, for it was nearly as large as a swimming pool.

Jamie perched me on the edge of it as he let go of my hand for only a moment, flicking on the water and pouring in a healthy amount of soap from a small vial as he did so. I steeled myself, knowing that most bath soaps contained at least a hint lavender, but was completely undone by the overwhelmingly soothing scent of chamomile and honey instead.

He brought me back up to my feet and began to unbutton my dress, slipping the sleeves over my shoulders and pulling his own shirt up over his head. Jamie’s hands slid over my hips, pulling me close for a kiss that began to loosen every knot inside of me. We came apart only long enough to step into the tub and lowered as one into the rising water.

I climbed onto his lap once he’d moved into a comfortable position and his strong arms wrapped around me, not allowing for even a breath of space to come between us.

“Warmer or cooler, a nighean?”

“Warmer,” I murmured, my lips brushing against his neck as I pressed my cheek against his broad shoulder.

He reached out and adjusted the water’s temperature, guiding it into perfection before taking something from the array of bottles on the side of the tub. I heard him squeeze some of the contents into his hands and warm it between them. Gently massaging it into my skin, he started at my shoulders and slowly worked his way down my back. I relaxed under his touch and the thick scent of honey coated my senses. The safe, sweet fragrance lulled me into contented haze as Jamie turned off the water and a hush fell over the room. I slowly lifted my head and found his lips once more, the heat of his touch as intense as that of the water surrounding me. My arms slid from his shoulders, my hands traveling across his pectorals and around his ribs to pull him tighter against me.

“Sorcha,” he murmured. His gaze was as protective as it was passionate, his blue eyes fierce with a strength of will that attacked the strongholds of fear in my heart. “You’re safe.”

“For now,” I whispered hesitantly, the fog of suspended time thick around my head.

Jamie’s hands rose from the water to frame my face, his warm palms pressing against my cheeks. “No’ just for now, mo nighean donn… for always, I give you my word.”

A shiver ran down my spine as I shook my head slowly. He meant what he’d said and would protect the children and I at the cost of his life, I knew, but none of us were safe as long as Jack Randall was alive. It didn’t matter where we went or what we’d planned to do. From the dawn of tomorrow on, we were in danger.

“Randall willna hurt you again,” he vowed, nuzzling my ear and stilling my movements.  
“No’ while I’m around, mo chridhe.”


End file.
